


chiaroscuro

by Katraa



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chief Miyako, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, General Yamato, Hibiki works for JP's, Humor, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Post-Triangulum Arc, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: They say that the third time is the charm.  Or at least, it was, except for the minor fact that Yamato Hotsuin’s memories were not completely restored.  Once Chief, now General and “little” brother of Chief Houtsin, does not know what God or Demon he’s upset to earn the annoying, continuous presence of one of the newest JP’s recruits - Hibiki Kuze – who seems to be strangely close to the Chief.post-tri ac: slight canon divergence, yamato is now a general and miyako is chief.  slow burn and memory loss ahoy.





	1. act one: chapter one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fae_of_the_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fae_of_the_rose/gifts).



> this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written?  
> i was talking about this premise with a friend and i just couldn't not write it.  
> basically it follows the ending of the tri-arc with a few changes that are noted throughout.

**[06:30] DAICHI:** Hey, man! Good luck with your first day of being a real adult and all! Real proud of you. If anyone deserves it, it’s you, buddy. 

**[06:34] IO:** Yes! Good luck today, Hibiki. We will be ready to celebrate tonight.

 **[06:38] DAICHI:** Wahhhhh now? What are you talking about, Io? 

**[06:39] IO:** Um? I thought we were going to have dinner with Hibiki after his shift ended?

 **[06:39] DAICHI:** Wait wait wait wait wait that was supposed to be a surprise. Don’t check your phone!

 **[06:40] DAICHI:** Don’t scroll up!

 **[06:40] DAICHI:** La la la!

 **[06:41] DAICHI:** Good luck buddy!

 **[06:41] IO:** I’m so sorry!

 **[06:42] DAICHI:** Knock ‘em dead!

 **[06:42] DAICHI:** And tell Yamato I say hi.

 

The incessant buzzing of his phone is what wakes Hibiki up that morning. His alarm, set for 6:45, is wholly neglected in favor of scrolling up through the chain of texts in the group chat. The rays of early morning sun are spilling into his room and it’s hard to get his eyes to adjust to the dully lit screen in front of him but he makes do. He’s done a lot worse for his friends, after all.

Hibiki is about to thumb back a response – feign absolute innocence on this so called celebration – but his phone buzzes again as a new notification pops up. It’s not his alarm, either.

**[06:45] JOE:** Yooooo. Big man on campus, hey! Good luck today. Ronnie and I might be stopping by to see the Chief about something. Looking forward to seeing you out of that hoodie.

Hibiki’s lips quirk in amusement.

 **[06:45] JOE:** And in an equally ridiculous JP’s coat. Seriously, who designs for them? Sheesh. P.S. Ronnie told me to send that follow-up. Guy worries too much, eh?

The alarm begins to loudly blare from his phone and Hibiki nearly throws it in shock. What’s more shocking than the alarm is the fact he nearly jumped out of his skin. Perhaps three or so weeks of saving the world does a number on your nerves. 

**[06:46] SENT:** I don’t give autographs. Sorry, Joe.

It’s been exactly three days since the last regression. In those three days, there have been zero earthquakes, zero demon outbreaks, and zero alien-star-monsters invading Japan. Also in those three days Hibiki has managed to spend most of them with Io and Daichi. When he isn’t with them physically, he’s attached to his phone (more than ever before) like it’s some sort of oxygen tank. Hinako texts absurdly fast and Airi prefers short bursts of conversations. The more responsible members of the group have yet to reach out, but Hibiki imagines that’s for convenience.

After all, today is his first day at JP’s, courtesy of the _warm-hearted_ and benevolent Chief Miyako Hotsuin. Speaking of which, he needed to shower and dress so he wouldn’t be embarrassingly late on his first day. Miyako liked him, but he doubted her affection would forgive such a careless misstep.

* * *

“You look … older in that.”

Miyako’s brow lifts up her forehead, hiding behind her messy fringe. It doesn’t take a genius – of which Hibiki is most definitely not – to discern that she’s appraising him. The Chief’s lips are pursed and Hibiki would pay all the yen in the world to glimpse inside that pretty, but utterly baffling, head of hers.

“I hear that’s a good thing,” Hibiki says smoothly. 

Miyako sighs, a delicate hand pressing to her forehead. “Please. This is no place for jokes.” There’s a poignant pause in which she adds, cautiously, “…at least, not while you’re on the clock.”

Hibiki lets go of a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding. 

“It is good to see you,” she begins again, this time with a renewed warmth to her words that reminds Hibiki of their conversations during those last few days of the previous world. In those moments, Hibiki had seen her humanity; he had seen her grow as a person and learn to love herself and the value of an individual. It was worth every headache along the way.

“You too,” Hibiki says with a genuine smile devoid of any jest. “How are you?”

“I can’t complain,” she says, tilting her head high, “After all, it is my responsibility to lead as head of the Hotsuin clan. It is my sworn duty to protect those that cannot protect themselves.”

A lazy grin blossoms on Hibiki’s face. “Everyone, then, huh?”

Miyako pauses, and then a rare smile flits across her face before she rolls her eyes. “I trust you have looked at your folder by now?”

“Yeah.”

In Hibiki’s hands is a yellow folder containing all of his onboarding documents. Attached to his jacket is an ID badge (with a hideous picture, might he add, considering his hair was exceptionally messy today, and not in that endearing bedhead way) and in his coat pocket is an upgraded cellphone. Which begs the question: is this world, this new world free from the record, still infested with demons? Is the world truly safe? He doesn’t ask. Not because he is afraid of the answer or afraid Miyako won’t tell him, but because he knows no world can be perfect and that even the best laid plans have their flaws.

“Do you have any questions, then?” Her hand comes to rest on her hip, an impatient tick he’s noticed.

“Not yet,” Hibiki says and fidgets with the collar and top-button of his jacket. He undoes it and sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. “How do you people breathe with these on? I’m starting to understand why Fumi wears hers like a cape.”

Miyako doesn’t laugh, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes that makes Hibiki think that she wants to.

“In that case, you are dismissed. Please see to it that you check in with your General after you make yourself comfortable in your office.”

“A newbie and I already have an office?”

“Yes,” Miyako says curtly, “You have proven your potential and while you may only be an agent, I have the utmost trust and faith in your abilities.”

“You’re beginning to sound like your brother,” Hibiki laughs but politely bows his head in respect. “…Thanks, again. For this.”

The beginning of a speech dies on his lips. He wants to tell her that before the world came to an end, he had been lost. Even though he had had friends, he had always been alone and without a true purpose. As tough as those weeks had been, resetting the world and protecting the weak, they had taught him something. About himself and about others. Now, with a renewed passion for the world and a strange interest in being part of some secret government organization, Hibiki felt like he had a _purpose_. Now, Hibiki felt like he could make a difference. True, he had already left his mark on history and destroyed the invaders, but this was different. This was fulfilment in a way he couldn’t explain. So he doesn’t explain. Instead, he smiles once more at the Chief.

“About my brother,” Miyako begins but then her phone rings and she frowns. There’s a lengthy sigh before her expression turns serious and she meets Hibiki’s gaze “Please phone Sako if you have any follow-up questions.”

Which is code for Miyako needs to get back to work. Hibiki takes the hint and bows one last time before leaving her office.

The hallways of JP’s are endlessly familiar. Even with another reset to the world, some things just resist change. While it had been their hope to create a world free of a _need_ for JP’s, it seemed that danger always lurked. Which made sense, given that without darkness, light could not exist. There was a balance to any world and even defeating the King of the Universe did not grant a person the ability to alter the fabrics of _life itself_. Hibiki could live in a world where the worst that happened was a demon came unsealed in some remote location and the locals freaked out. It’d be like a Bigfoot sighting. 

Hibiki’s hand drifts up to his hair to push back his bangs. The hand lingers on the clasp of his jacket and he undoes the second button. He won’t take the thing off, he decides, since the temperature in the building is just this side of brisk. What he will do is snake his hand back towards his nape and free the bunny ears of his hoodie from their confinement beneath the jacket. It’s absurd, wearing the two together, but he thinks with all the hell he’s been put through he deserves this much leeway. 

His office is on the third floor, which is convenient considering there’s a garden nestled in the center of the building. He’s been there once, on the first world, but hasn’t been back since. He makes a note to visit it later. He always liked the primroses there. 

On his way to his office he checks his phone.

 **[09:34] FUMI:** Hey, so the Chief told me you’re around. Swing by my office later. I have a few things I need to discuss with you. No rush. I’ll be waiting.

And then another from Otome:

 **[09:37] OTOME:** I just heard the good news. You’ll be needing your inaugural physical so stop by when you get a second. I’ll be sure to fit you in.

Hibiki doesn’t even need to wonder if the thinly-veiled innuendos are on purpose. A laugh bubbles up from the base of his throat and he shakes his head. This can work, he thinks, as his steps take him towards his office in the far corner of the third floor. This job will be good for him.

* * * 

When he reaches his office, he pushes open the door drapes himself dramatically over the tiny desk in the tiny room.

“Home sweet home,” he crows with a dramatic grin for no particular reason. In honesty, it’s an attempt to channel the relief and gratitude that’s coursing through him with zero outlet. Even with how much Miyako has grown, he thinks bombarding her with praise and gratitude is just a bit too much. Even if she’s cute when she flusters.

Hibiki drops the folder on his desk and hops up on it a few seconds later. It’s not comfortable by any means but it’ll work. He bluntly ignores the desk chair mere feet away. He’s always been one for the unconventional.

He’ll visit the General soon, he thinks, as he reaches for his phone once more. It takes approximately five seconds to pull up Daichi’s individual thread.

 **[09:47] SENT:** First job and I have my own office. Talk about perks.

 **[09:48] DAICHI:** Sweet, man! I’m so jealous! I’m sitting here pulling my hair out over these stupid entrance exams and you’re out being an adult. 

**[09:48] DAICHI:** Speaking of adults, you see everyone yet?

 **[09:49] SENT:** Sort of. I just met with Miyako and Fumi and Otome already texted me. 

**[09:50] SENT:** I have a meeting with Yamato in like … fifteen minute? 

**[09:50] DAICHI:** A meeting, huh? The big boss man?  
**[09:51] SENT:** I mean, he’s a General now. But sure, the big boss man. He’s still my boss.

 **[09:52] DAICHI:** Cool. I can’t imagine he’s happy to be under his sister’s nose, but good for him. 

**[09:52] DAICHI:** Dude, I can’t believe you have a job. Just a few months ago you were smelling glue.

 **[09:53] SENT:** That’s not funny. It was scented glue and I was testing a hypothesis.

 **[09:54] DAICHI:** Yeaaaah, okay. 

**[09:54] SENT:** : (

 **[09:55] DAICHI:** Texting on the job, geez. You’re already slacking off big time. 

**[09:55] SENT:** Says the guy not studying.

 **[09:56] DAICHI:** Hey! 

**[09:56] DAICHI:** Ugh. Fine, leave me alone to my wallowing agony. Go have some tearful reunion with your Boss.

 **[09:57] SENT:** He’s the only one that’s gonna cry.

 **[09:58] DAICHI:** Yeah, because you’re his favorite person ever. And he’s been away from you for three whole days. The waterworks are gonna be great. Pls send pics? I want to have blackmail against him.

 **[09:58] SENT:** No can do. 

**[09:59] DAICHI:** Wah?! I thought we were friends. C’mon, man!

 **[09:59] SENT:** He’d break my phone.

 **[10:00] DAICHI:** Your phone? Doubt it. 

**[10:00] SENT:** Why?

 **[10:00] DAICHI:** Seriously? You seriously don’t know?

**[10:01] SENT:** ???

 **[10:01] DAICHI:** Dude. Dude!

**[10:01] SENT:** ????????

 **[10:02] DAICHI:** Ehhhh. I guess there wasn’t a good time for it before. But seriously!!! How can you not know?!?!

**[10:02] SENT:** Seriously know what???? Daichi????

 **[10:04] DAICHI:** Go to your stupid meeting and you’ll find out. Just pls leave out all the gross details later, k? See you later, man!

Hibiki sighs and pockets his phone. There’s an itching in the back of his mind he can’t quite scratch. Even before the world went to hell, Hibiki had hated not _knowing_ something, especially when it was dangled in front of his face. Of course, as his best friend, Daichi probably already knew that and was getting revenge, but… But it was the principle of the matter! 

“What’s obvious?” Hibiki mutters to himself as he pushes off his desk and heads out of his office to make the small trip to Yamato’s office. Apparently it’s on the same floor. 

Nothing ever is obvious with Yamato. While Hibiki can easily see that yes, he is the previous Chief’s favorite, he still wouldn’t peg the man as obvious. If anything, he’s an enigma. Even his blunt statements are drenched in ulterior motives or deeper meaning. It’s frustrating but also stupidly addictive. The banter is shamelessly one of his favorite things right alongside showing Yamato the wonders of the modern world. Which is dumb, because the guy’s seventeen and should know what things like comics are, but no. No, he’s an eighty year old man trapped in an – absurdly hot – seventeen year’s old body. 

Hibiki pauses mid step. Absurdly hot. It’s by no means the first time he’s thought that. There isn’t some big gay awakening that’s happening. Not at all. But it’s something. The stress of saving the world had shut down any of Hibiki’s trivial desires. Crushing was one of them. There was no time to dote on someone, or even begin to crush on them, when you were putting your life on the line multiple times a day.

Hibiki had had his fair share of crushes over the years, but he had never acted on it. It was easier to tease, to flirt, and to hang out with his friends. It was easier and it meant that he couldn’t get hurt. He wasn’t _afraid_ of abandonment, but the idea that someone could flip a switch and walk away one day like his father was something that didn’t sit well in his stomach. So he played dumb and ignored any and all advances on his person throughout high school. Which was great, because that meant more time for stupid teenage things with his friends.

But… but it was hard not to dwell on it at times. At least during that last week when Yamato was wiped clear from existence. All his _other_ friends had been there, and in that world they all had reached their potentials and were _happy_ , but … Yamato was gone. And it left a raw numbness that didn’t go away. It stayed until they caught sight of him in the Astrolabe. Hibiki figured it would have been the same if any of his friends had gone missing – most certainly Daichi, at least! – but he wasn’t great at lying to himself.

Yamato was an enigma. A big, pretty, stupid enigma that was dumb and said stupid things like “my sworn friend, we’ll always be together.” Sworn sounded like a marriage vow and the rest of it sounded like it was ripped from a Lifetime special. But that was Yamato: unaware of social cues and experiencing friendship for the first time. Hibiki was his _first_ friend, and while he was no longer his _only_ friend, it must have meant something to the Old Chief. 

But he was going in circles.

* * * 

Hibiki didn’t knock. Hibiki _certainly_ didn’t knock on _Yamato Hotsuin’s_ door. So he did the next best thing: he dropkicked the door open when he was certain he had twisted the doorknob enough to set it ajar.

So there he stands, after having drop-kicked the previous Chief of JP’s door open. Hibiki stands proudly, JP’s trenchcoat hanging low and slightly out of breath. His hands come to rest on his hips, chin held up high, messy hair _all over the place_. And he smiles.

“Good morning!” he chirps, because _why the hell not_. 

There’s a heavy silence; a tension that could be easily cut. It was suffocating. Yamato glances up from a pile of paperwork, cold steely eyes settling on Hibiki. Silence. A moment or two pass, with Hibiki standing there awkwardly, losing confidence, and Yamato staring as if contemplating the adequate means of _murder_.

“Don’t do that again,” Yamato finally says, setting down his pen, arms folding to his chest. There’s a _sharpness_ to his eyes. 

Approximately ten thousand things happen in that moment. Hibiki’s carefree smile drops. Next to go is the swell of warmth in his chest. In its stead is a cold, tight pain that clenches his heart and makes him feel like vomiting. After that, his knees slightly tremble and all he can see is cold, cold eyes that lack _any warmth_. Any recognition. His hands tremble and he’s quick to shove them in his pockets, head dipping low. Don’t look at him, don’t look at him – 

“Of course not, sir. My apologies,” Hibiki says and he’s surprised at how _empty_ and superficial his own voice is.

Something breaks in that moment and Hibiki realizes that all this time, all these hours these past few days, he’s been holding his breath, waiting for _this_ and … and it’s gone. There’s nothing. It’s colder than Bufudyne, hotter than any fire spell. It hurts and Hibiki isn’t sure how to process _any of it_.

The silence stretches for what feels like hours but is in fact two minutes. Yamato’s shifting some paperwork around on his desk and when he realizes that Hibiki hasn’t taken a seat yet, he stops. Grey eyes glance back up, one hidden between unusually messy bangs, and he _stares_.

“Sit.”

Hibiki does so in a flash.

The jacket feels more absurd than ever and Hibiki feels like his hoodie beneath it is catching on fire. If Yamato doesn’t remember, if Yamato is truly a General, then certainly he finds the sight of his newest recruit in such absurd clothing to be just that: absurd. But he sits, hands folding in his lap, cheeks stained with embarrassment. 

It’s not how he planned for this encounter to go. 

He isn’t sure why he’s reacting like this – there was a chance that memories could be come corrupt and an even bigger chance that data would be corrupt, even separate from the Record, but … but this is different. There’s something twisting in his gut that is _foreign_ and yet so damn similar to the pain he felt during the third world before they finally located Yamato. 

“Kuze,” Yamato says in a level voice that just digs the knife in deeper without Hibiki’s permission. It shouldn’t sting this much but it does and that’s just even more _baffling_. “I take it that the Chief has given you your office assignment.”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

Another poignant pause fills the air. Hibiki shifts restlessly in his chair.

“Read this and report back tomorrow morning.” 

A packet is informally slid across the desk and Yamato doesn’t bother to look up. The General returns to his laptop and raises his left hand to make a distinct _shooing_ motion. Hibiki takes the hint. He quickly gathers the packet of paper off the desk and rises to his feet. With an even faster bow, Hibiki scrambles to the door and leaves, murmuring a quick goodbye.

Once in the safety of the hallway, Hibiki slams his back against the opposing wall to Yamato’s office. One breath. Two breaths. The adrenaline pumping through him is not unlike the same chaotic energy he felt in battle. But it’s different. It feels bitter and Hibiki spares a weary glance down at the paperwork. Onboarding documents. Nothing containing any secret code. Nada. Zip. He frowns.

Without thinking about it Hibiki fishes for his phone. His fingers are scrambling to send a text to Daichi and then Miyako.

 **[10:30] SENT:** So… Houston, we have a problem.

And then a bit more specifically to Miyako:

 **[10:31] SENT:** I don’t mean to be rude, but … why the hell is your brother the only person not to remember? 

And then after half a millisecond of deliberation to Makoto:

 **[10:32] SENT:** I need to talk to you.

…

 **[10:32] SENT:** It’s about Yamato.

…

 **[10:32] SENT:** I maybe sort of kind of just figured out how I feel about him. SOS?


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the slow burn continues, hibiki confides in some of his favs, and the world is pretty ok.  
> minus the whole yamato bit.
> 
> i have no idea if the rest of the chapters will be out this fast but...  
> they might be.   
> i couldn't resist posting this trash on my birthday leave me alone

He could count the number of times he has been in Makoto’s office previous to this on one hand. Yet here he is, slumped into her chair, fiddling with the fixings of his trench coat. Makoto is sitting across from him, chin resting on top of the tent her laced fingers make. She looks concerned. Hibiki can’t blame her.

“So he… doesn’t remember?”

“He yelled at me,” Hibiki begins but quickly backpedals, “For kicking his door open. The old Yamato would have sighed and then said something canned about my potential or me being as interesting as ever.”

“That was rude, nonetheless,” Makoto says and closes her eyes. 

“Whose side are you on?” Hibiki asks as his lips twitch into a pout when he is certain she can’t see it.

“This isn’t like him,” Makoto says and then opens her eyes. Her hands fall away and she begins organizing paperwork, pushing this and that around on her desk, searching for _something_. “It is strange that he would be terse with you, of all people. He has a certain … fondness for you, after all.”

“Putting it lightly,” Hibiki laughs with zero mirth.

Makoto exhales, the sound echoing in the small office. “I’m sorry, K… Hibiki. He hasn’t mentioned anything about the previous world to me, so I just assumed he was fine. After all, there has been no reason to dredge up painful memories.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you,” Hibiki begins reassuringly. 

“I know,” Makoto says and it’s gentler this time. “I’ve been spending so much time with the Chief that I hadn’t realized something was wrong. And that rests on my shoulders. Even in this world I feel a certain bond with him. I feel as if I’ve let him down.”

“Makoto,” Hibiki says. He leans out of his chair and places his hands on the edge of her desk angling to meet her gaze. “It’s not your fault. I promise.”

There’s a pink dusting her cheeks and she sputters for a second. “You’re being awfully serious….”

“I’m capable of that from time to time, yeah.”

Hibiki sits back in his seat, head tilting to the side. It’s true – humor had been his way of dealing with the stress of the world ending. Humor had been his way to distract the others. Humor had been his way of processing pain and making people smile in the darkest of situations. Now, he felt as if someone had reached inside and ripped out that part of him. Zero jokes were coming to mind and all he could do was speak plainly. Truth be told, it was unnerving.

“I don’t mean to pry but,” Makoto begins anew and she’s fidgeting with her hair. It’s unlike her and Hibiki can’t help but lift a brow.

“But?”

“Your text was a bit… unusual,” Makoto says, grasping for straws. “Is there something you would like to discuss?”

Any color that was previously staining Makoto’s face is now showing on Hibiki’s. It’s a hot second before he’s able to exhale, a nervous laugh bubbling up. Is it warm in here? Why can’t he sit still? Why is this room so _small_? Why is this conversation so much harder than fighting a grudging star?

“Hibiki?” she pries, concern evident in her down-turned lips.

“It’s…” Hibiki doesn’t want to be rude but he takes his phone out of his pocket and flips it open, staring at the messaging application. No new notifications. Of course. What was he expecting? “Stress. Kind of just went stream of conscious.”

“I see.” Does she? Either way, Makoto closes her eyes. “If it is truly as we fear, we should be careful what we say around him. It could trigger some anomaly. That, or he is likely to find us all insane.”

Hibiki can picture it: someone spills the beans, probably Daichi, and Yamato calls them all conspiring _idiots_ and walks away to do _better things_ with his time. It doesn’t sit well with Hibiki.

“Can you tell the others?”

“Of course.” There’s a fierceness in Makoto’s eyes that he hasn’t seen since they were side-by-side fighting for a better future. It makes Hibiki smile and he scratches his cheek. 

“Thanks.” And then, “He’s still the same, memories or not. We’ll just have to focus on making new memories with him.”

There must have been something about the way he said it because one moment Makoto is ready to take on the world and the next she’s sputtering again, face a fetching shade of red. She begins fumbling with papers and reaching for her laptop all the while sitting up straighter. Honestly she looks like a blushing schoolgirl. Any other time Hibiki would find it endearing as hell but right now it’s _disconcerting_.

“Uh?”

“So that’s how it is,” Makoto whispers, her eyes flitting nervously from her laptop back over to him. “I had no idea you felt that way. I-I mean there was evidence, of course, with how much time you spent with him. My apologies for not realizing it sooner. In hindsight, it’s painfully obvious and I’m sorry it took me this long.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Hibiki jerks out of his seat, feet meeting the ground with a distinct _thump_ on the carpet. He isn’t sure if his face is on fire but it _feels_ that way. It isn’t like him to lose his cool, but here he is, blushing over the mere suggestion that he, the Shinning One and Savior of the World, has a _crush_.

“You… I…. Wait, it’s obvious?” He stalls, hands fumbling with the buttons of his jacket.

“I’m sorry for overreaching but –” Makoto stops. 

“I’m gonna… go do some paperwork.” There’s a strained smile as Hibiki steps backwards towards the door. Makoto opens her mouth to say something but Hibiki quickly waves his hands in front of him, as if physically clearing away any misunderstandings floating in the air. “Thanks for the talk, Makoto. Really. I’ll see you soon!”

And he escapes as fast as these _stupid JP’s boots_ will allow him.

* * * 

Hibiki’s face meets his desk with a resonating _thud_. It feels as if the life has been sucked out of him and that his soul has taken a convenient hiatus from his body. Lifeless. He feels exhausted and _lifeless_ and it’s only noon. It’s a great first day of the rest of his life. Ten out of ten would truly recommend this particular experience.

Eventually, Hibiki gets the courage to check his phone. Unlike earlier, his messaging application now displays ten notifications. It’s a bit extreme but he figures Makoto must have kept her word – as she always does – and has dispersed the problematic news to the rest of the group. Slowly, he begins opening up the several different conversations, visibly cringing each and every time. It’s like dousing a wound in salt.

 **[11:39] FUMI:** Errr, sorry to hear about your little lovespat. I’m not great with these things, but the offer still stands to keep your mind off it once you get some free time.

 **[11:42] JOE:** Drinks on me later. I think we have some catching up to do and some shopping to do. 

**[11:44] HINAKO:** I’m super sorry about that, Hibiki. I’m sure he’ll remember soon. Ai and I have a show tonight, but I’m totally down for hanging out later if you want! Chin up, Mister Hero!

 **[11:44] HINAKO:** Btw I won’t tell him about anything. Not like I see Mister Grumpy all the time anyway.

 **[11:45] IO:** Oh… I’m so sorry. That must be hard, especially working under him. Maybe he needs more time?

**[11:45] DAICHI:** Whaaaaaaaat?!

 **[11:46] DAICHI:** No, no, no we didn’t reset time and save the world just for him to forget about us! C’mon that’s not cool, dude! Ugh. 

**[11:47] DAICHI:** Crap, man. I’m sorry.

 **[11:47] RONALDO:** That is quite troublesome. But if there’s anything that Yamato Hotsuin is is unexpected. I am sure this will pass shortly. Please keep us updated.

 **[11:50] MIYAKO:** Please visit my Office when you get a chance. 

The unsettling feeling that Makoto isn’t the only person that knows about the questionable relationship between him and his superior begins to creep. A tangible heat pools in the pit of his stomach. It’s not dread but it’s certainly not pleasant, either, and Hibiki swallows thickly. He needs to go visit Miyako, as per her text, but he feels rooted to his chair. Even if he doesn’t feel _that_ way about Yamato, it’s still weeks of memories with a _friend_ and no matter how you cut it, it sucks.

* * * 

“You wanted to see me?”

There’s a forced levity to his voice and Hibiki hates it. It’d be so much easier to just deal with the painful reality and go back to cracking jokes. It’d be so much easier to play pretend and just assume that Yamato is pulling his leg for some twisted reason. A lot of things would be easier than having the person that risked _everything_ to bring you back to life suddenly forget about your entire existence.

“Yes.” She frowns. “My brother informed me that you kicked open his door?”

Hibiki tenses. “…Yup, I did that.”

Miyako gestures at the chair nearest Hibiki. It’s not a request. Hibiki hurriedly sits down and feels like he’s taking part in some fucked up version of speed-dating since all he’s done today is dance between offices and have deep and meaningful conversations with little to no closure. 

“It is my fault,” Miyako begins, a heaviness to her voice, “that I did not have the time to warn you.”

Hibiki looks away, frowning. “So you knew,” he says and he winces at how much it sounds like an accusation, “I mean, it must have been obvious, right? When we all woke up and you were Chief.”

“No. Things went on as normal,” Miyako says, not argumentative but stern in her words. “Brother did not mention a word to me and our conversations have been strictly business since Monday. I assumed he did not want to discuss the past and wanted to move forward.”

“Sounds like him,” Hibiki laughs and his throat feels insanely dry. 

“However, when I gave him the list of new agents, he had no reaction to seeing your name. I assumed something was wrong but did not have the time to investigate. I did not want to suggest something to you that I could not back up,” Miyako concludes with a delicate shake of her head. Even in this world she carries herself with so much grace even when delivering discouraging news. 

“Kinda wish I hadn’t kicked his door now.” Hibiki drops his voice to a murmur, “I’m already on his shit-list. Yikes.”

“He did seem rather perturbed,” Miyako says but there’s a tiny laugh that follows her concurrence. “Sako informed me that it would be best to keep him out of the loop for now. I have to agree. If there is truly no way to recover his memories…”

“It’d drive him up a wall, yeah,” Hibiki says. 

“Yes.” … “If you are uncomfortable with your assignment, I will find another General to place you under the command of.”

“No,” Hibiki says and it’s firm and resolute and he feels like he’s experiencing an out-of-body experience. “I’ll work for him. Maybe it’ll jog his memory. Or something.”

“Or something,” Miyako echoes and there’s a twinkle in her eyes. It’s unnerving. “Yes…I can understand that, I think. After how hard you worked for this new world, I can see the appeal in trying to make it perfect.”

“It’s not that,” Hibiki answers and folds his hands in his lap to keep himself from fidgeting with the hem of his coat. “He’s my friend. He’s still in there somewhere.”

If Miyako has any suspicions, she doesn’t remark on them. Instead, she nods. 

“If that is the case, then please return to your office. I believe you have some light reading to do before you embark on your first mission tomorrow?”

Miyako visibly revels in the absolute look of _terror_ that spreads across Hibiki’s face. All the color drains from his cheeks and he opens his lips to speak but there is no sound. A key has been inserted into his ignition and it’s twisting, all right, but nothing’s happening. The engine just won’t start and it keeps sputtering embarrassingly. Frankly, the dryness from earlier is suddenly so much worse. His heart feels like it’s beating out of control and he isn’t sure if it’s excitement or trepidation. Either way, it’s uncomfortable. 

“Already? Tomorrow? Where? With Yamato?”

“The report has all the answers you seek,” she says and it sounds whimsical and she’s really starting to pick up on the Hotsuin sarcasm and sparkle. 

“Fine, fine,” Hibiki says and rises to his feet, quickly adding, “… I’ll read it now. Thank you for your time, Chief.”

“Yes.” She nods again and then lifts a hand. The gesture stops Hibiki, whose hand stills on the doorknob. “Please, feel free to refer to me by my name. Although it is a bit unconventional now that our roles have changed, I would like it.”

Hibiki’s smile is soft. “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Indeed.”

With that, he takes his leave.

* * * 

Six in the morning comes far too quickly. After a long day of reading report after report, Hibiki had gone to dinner with Io and Daichi. The group discussed their days and the troubling news surrounding Yamato Houtsin. Their voices were whispers but even with hushed tones it was evident that Io and Daichi were bothered by the strange turn of events. Daichi seemed genuinely upset and threatened to track down Saiduq himself – because where was that guy, anyway? – and demand some answers. Io wasn’t nearly as forceful but her smile was weaker. After that, Hibiki had retired home and crashed headfirst into his bed. He was going to move into a new apartment next week now that he had a job and could afford it, but for now he was stuck at his mom’s place. Thankfully, she worked late and wasn’t home to bombard him with questions about his first day and his sudden change of heart regarding his career and schooling. It was exhausting, admittedly. He didn’t want to rehash it for a second time.

So when six came, Hibiki audibly groaned and threw his phone across the room. He regretted it instantly when he realized he had to escape the warmth and safety of his blankets to fetch the blasted thing that was shrieking. The blanket burrito was no more.

Six is too early to be awake, but seven is far too early to be a functioning adult, coffee in hand, standing outside the JP’s building. The scarf tightly wrapped around Hibiki’s neck is doing nothing to block out the blistering wind that decided to come and further ruin his morning. Thankfully, the hoodie under his jacket is warm and he isn’t _absolutely freezing_. It’s the small things. 

“You are ahead of schedule.”

Hibiki fingers stiffen around the warm beverage in his clutches. Yamato’s voice, even now _even still_ , sends a distinct _chill_ down his spine. Now, that chill is followed by a resounding _drop_ of his gut and the ignition of nerves he thought he had discarded long ago. Great. 

“Decided I should try to make it up to you after the door thing,” Hibiki answers and refuses to lift his gaze from the sweating lid to his cup. 

“I see.” He can practically feel Yamato’s judging eyes boring holes in his head. “It was rather rude of you, yes.”

“I’ve never been a firm believer of the accuracy of first impressions,” Hibiki says and then musters the courage to look away from his beloved beverage. There’s something unreadable in Yamato’s gaze but it’s gone before Hibiki can discern what it is. “Hibiki Kuze. It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

Yamato doesn’t comment – which is incredibly rude on his part, Hibiki notes! – and begins thumbing through something on his phone. When Hibiki strains to look, Yamato lifts his gaze and frowns.

“It will take just under an hour to reach Mt. Gongen.” 

“We aren’t using the—” Hibiki abruptly shuts up and nods. Right. Terminals and other special JP’s equipment that he isn’t supposed to know about. He wouldn’t want to arouse suspicion. Not this early on. So he smiles faintly and corrects himself, “So we aren’t taking public transportation?”

“No, I have arranged for a driver for this particular mission. It is top priority, according to the Chief.”

Something about that stings. There’s a flicker of a memory, of a conversation of traveling the world together to see its wonder via public transportation. Hibiki’s gut drops again and he takes a perfectly timed sip of coffee. It tastes sour. 

“We’re checking on a Seal, right?” Hibiki says once he’s done whispering his dreadful secrets to his drink.

“That is correct.” Yamato is curt and returns his gaze to his phone. “As the report stated, we are renewing the Seal on Ōyamatsumi.”

Hibiki cranes his head again to try and see what the hell Yamato is doing on his phone. Apparently that isn’t the best idea he’s ever had because Yamato is meeting his gaze with a look that could rival any dagger. Sharp and pointy and _not enthused_. 

“Is something wrong?” Yamato asks, blandly, angling the phone just out of Hibiki’s view. “I am aware that the Chief is a personal friend of yours, but that does not give you any special favors in JP’s. I will engage with you just as I would any other agent.”

 _That_ one certainly hurts. Hibiki blinks back at him and finally stops trying to eavesdrop. If it’s cold here, he can’t imagine how much colder it’ll be up on the top of some mountain. It’s a dreadful thought and he hopes against all odds that there’s some super cool JP’s way of reaching the summit without hiking. He can’t quite imagine Yamato hiking in those steel-toed boots but he’s certainly seen crazier things. Then again, he’d pay a whole lot of yen _to_ see that impossible feat.

Hibiki is wrenched from his reveries when a black car stops in front of them. Yamato gestures at the door closest to them before heading around the vehicle to get in on the driver’s side. Hibiki does as he’s told and slides into the backseat, rejoicing in the warmth that’s instantly breathing life back into his extremities. God he absolutely hates the cold.

Yamato is silent beside him, the small distance of the middle seat feeling like miles at this point. Hibiki isn’t sure why, but the distance is painful and he wants nothing more than to scoot over, knee knocking Yamato’s, and to rattle on and on about trivial matters that only Yamato would find fascinating. Yamato would listen with that curious interest of a child and then comment whimsically when Hibiki was done. It was something they had grown into over the resets and Hibiki hadn’t really noticed until he woke up and it was _gone_.

He was Yamato’s first friend and that had meant something. Yamato had wholeheartedly put his faith into Hibiki – into the wisdom and whims of a teenager he met during the end of the world. Yamato had risked his very existence to bring him _back_ and that never truly registered to Hibiki.

…So maybe he does have a crush on Yamato. But it’s entirely Yamato’s fault. 

“So,” Hibiki says as the driver pulls away from the curb and begins their trip towards the mountain. 

“Yes?” Yamato asks, not looking over at him. At least this time it doesn’t sound like Hibiki is utterly wasting his time. That’s a start.

“What’s your favorite color?” What in the actual fuck, Kuze, he thinks and his mouth is arid and the urge to physically slam his palm against his forehead is absurdly high.

Yamato seems puzzled but it does earn a quick, sidelong glance. Those unfairly pretty eyes are sizing him up again, Hibiki’s certain of it, but they fly away after a second. 

“Blue,” Yamato says after what feels like a century. His lips remain pursed after that and he turns his attention back down to his phone. 

“Me too,” Hibiki answers and no, no one asked you, Kuze, but he answers anyway. His hands grasp his drink tighter and he takes _yet another_ well-timed sip. There’s a chaotic beating in his chest and he’s certain he’s never felt this nervous around another human being in his life. He wants to think it’s because he’s worried about letting on about his memories but he’s no fool. Not that much of one, anyway. 

Silence stretches between them and they’re driving over a bridge, the water glistening with the rays of the early morning sun. In another life, another time, another world, Hibiki would have made a catty remark about how romantic a sight it is and –

“Romantic?” Yamato echoes and Hibiki’s realizes he’s said it aloud.

Yeah, no, there’s no hope for him. “Picturesque?” Hibiki supplies hopefully and keeps his gaze firmly locked with the water and not the twinkling of grey eyes reflecting in the window. 

“Those aren’t synonyms.”

“I meant to say picturesque,” Hibiki says. “A lot of my friends are girls. I’m used to them saying corny things like that.”

“I see.” 

Yamato falls silent, looking at his phone at the exact moment Hibiki dares to gaze in that general direction. Talk about anti-social. Maybe now he can understand all the rumors about the “cold-hearted” Chief. When you’re as sentimental and talkative as a brick wall, people tend to label you as such. 

“You’re the Chief’s brother, right?” Hibiki questions and he’s hyperaware that he’s stepping on some hierarchical toes by prying but he can’t help it. 

“Yes, that is correct,” Yamato says brusquely. 

“Twins?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have any siblings.”

That’s enough to rip Yamato’s attention away from his phone and towards the conversation. Grey meet blue and Yamato frowns. Hibiki can tell he wants to ask why he mentioned that but he doesn’t. Instead, he blinks thrice at Hibiki and continues staring. The driver must think they’re quite the duo. That, or he thinks Hibiki is insane.

“I always wanted one,” Hibiki continues, foolishly attempting to dismiss the awkward, “But my parents didn’t have time to raise another kid, I think. That, or they were just so overjoyed at having me they didn’t think it was possible to love another!”

Blink. Bliiiiink.

“That was…” Hibiki quickly says, meeting Yamato’s blank gaze.

“A joke,” Yamato finishes for him, lips twisting into the first real signs of a smile since their so-called reunion. “You’re very … interesting.”

Coming from anyone else that most certainly would have been an insult, but strangely coming from Yamato Hotsuin it was the nicest thing Hibiki could have ever hoped for. God, this all sucked. He was _excited_ about his future, his career, and then Yamato had to go and get amnesia. It was horrible. Stupid. Unfair. It takes Yamato speaking to yank Hibiki out of his thoughts. 

“Bunny ears…” Yamato says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. 

Hibiki sputters, lifting the beverage closer to his lips to hide behind it. His face warms significantly and he swears he never used to be this sentimental. “Yeah,” he says and subconsciously glances over his shoulder to one of the flaps that’s pressed against his shoulder and the backseat.

Things go quiet for the remainder of the car ride. Hibiki continues reading through the report, picking out any important details he hadn’t managed to garner the night prior. Yamato eventually stops scrolling through his phone and watches the scenery pass them by. Hibiki swears he hears him comment _picturesque_ under his breath somewhere in that span of fifty minutes.

* * * 

“Please, for the love of all the cats in the world, don’t tell me it’s at the summit.”

“Why?”

“It’s so _cold_.”

They’re near the path that leads up the mountainside. It’s a path worn over the years and used by many tourists. The weather isn’t the best and it’s early, so there’s barely anyone around. Hibiki is shuffling his feet back and forth, rubbing his hands together. It’s not sparking that much warmth but it beats the alternative, he thinks. Yamato is strangely unperturbed, and Hibiki thinks it partially has to do with the fact that the Dragon Stream is tied to Mt. Fuji. Maybe Hotsuins just really, really love mountains.

“Did you not dress appropriately for the weather?” Yamato asks, adjusting his gloves as he looks at something off in the distance. 

“I don’t think I could be wearing anymore layers. It’s not possible,” Hibiki says with a pout. 

Yamato almost misses it, but there’s a stir of a smile.

The smile is the least surprising thing that happens in that moment. One moment, Yamato looks as if he’s contemplating something super serious and the next he’s close – so physically close – that time stands still. The sun is bright and it’s reflecting beautifully off his thin, silvery – no, lavender - hair. There’s some saying about the eyes being the windows of the soul and Hibiki believes _firmly_ in that moment that he can see the facets of Yamato’s soul. Yamato reaches out and even with his thick leather gloves on Hibiki can feel the warmth radiating from his hands. Is this guy a furnace? Yamato’s hand comes close but all it does is lightly tug the scarf up higher so that it’s covering Hibiki’s chin. And then it’s gone. 

It’s over too soon. And Hibiki realizes he wanted it to never end. Crap, he really does have a crush.

Hibiki watches as Yamato heads towards the path and begins his ascent. The moment rewinds and replays at least five times in Hibiki’s head before he snaps out of it and chases after Yamato, afraid to fall too far behind. He’s never been more afraid of anything in his life.


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hibiki and yamato complete the "mission", hibiki catches up with jungo and airi, airi has a brilliant idea, and hibiki falls in love.
> 
> i listened to hide and seek (amber run cover) on repeat for this.  
> so if you wanna jam out in pain, go ahead.  
> i guess i'm just going to continue full-steam ahead with this.

_All those years_  
_They were here first_  
_Oily marks appear on walls_  
_Where pleasure moments hung before_  
_The takeover_  
_The sweeping insensitivity of this_  
_Still life_  


Much to Hibiki’s dismay, they _do_ climb their way to the sumit. During the ascent, Hibiki begins to wonder why the demon wasn’t sealed at its actual namesake and instead on the top of a _mountain_ , but common sense had little room in the realm of the supernatural. Although shrines were erected for the ancient god elsewhere, apparently long ago JP’s had deigned it necessary to seal the demon here instead. Hibiki didn’t bother asking questions – he doubted he’d get any real answers. It wasn’t like Yamato was around when the seal was first placed, anyway. That, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much of an idiot he wanted to make himself out to be on his first mission. So he stayed quiet.

Upon reaching the sumit, Hibiki releases a loud sigh of relief. It’s embarrassing how much his legs are aching from the climb. Yamato continues, walking across to the clearing towards the observation platform. All business, all the time, apparently.

Hibiki shrugs to himself and glances around, admiring the sights. The Amakusa and Goto Sea are within sight and it’s so _surreal_ to be up here. His childhood didn’t allow for that many vacations and excursions such as these so this was an odd treat. The view was absolutely breathtaking and Hibiki wonders if Miyako sent them here on purpose. 

He really needed to stop thinking like that.

“Kuze.”

Yamato’s voice wrenches him from his thoughts. The General is standing near an old bell. Yamato’s hand is on his hip and he looks more bored than anything in that moment. It’s a look Hibiki’s familiar with – the same look he gets when his subordinates drawl on and on about insignificant details. _Wasting his time_ , he thinks. _Is that really what I’m doing now? Am I just civilian trash to him now?_

He heads over regardless.

“Bell of Awakening, huh?” Hibiki says as he comes to a stop a few feet away from Yamato and the bell. The plaque is in good shape and he can make out the words fairly easily.

“Yes,” Yamato answers and turns away from the bell towards another small stone fixture. It’s less impressive than the plaque and it’s a bit easier to miss. Within moments, the General is removing his right glove and placing the palm of his hand against the strangely smooth stone.

“It doesn’t need a Code?” Hibiki asks.

Yamato pauses, his hand going stiff against the stone. “A Code.” Shit, was he not supposed to know that already? “No, not this one.”

It seems like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he cants his head to the side and drags his fingertips along the stone. Hibiki has only seen Yamato without his gloves a few times. It’s a nice look for him, he thinks. The General’s hands are pale and fingers long; meant for an instrument perhaps in another lifetime where his blood did not determine his future.

“So it reacts to touch.” _Your_ touch goes unsaid but heavily implied.

Yamato doesn’t answer – probably a no shit Sherlock moment – and instead keeps dragging his fingers over the edges of the stone, as if searching for something. Hibiki sighs, shoulders heavy and feet still dragging. It’s even colder up here and he’s starting to lose sensation in his hands again.

“If you’re not using them, can I borrow your gloves?”

It’s a reasonable request, Hibiki rationalizes, because he’s about to lose his hands to frostbite and he doubts he’ll be of much use to JP’s without them. It’s reasonable, sure, but something about it has Yamato glancing over at him as if he’s grown two heads.

“…Tch. Why aren’t you prepared to begin with?” Yamato murmurs loud enough for Hibiki to hear but then unceremoniously removes his other glove and chucks the pair right at Hibiki’s face.

To hell with anyone that ever said Yamato Hotsuin didn’t have a sense of humor. … Or maybe that was just irritation coupled with a sliver of malice. Hibiki is erring on the side of comedy.

As Hibiki is hurriedly sliding them on, he hears Yamato speak up once more. “It did not dawn on you that, upon reaching the summit of a mountain, you would need additional protection from the cold?”

While he had copious layers of clothing on, Hibiki had neglected to bring gloves. Gloves were always frustratingly restrictive. He couldn’t use his phone when he had them on and nine times out of ten he lost one of them within a week. So what really was the point when he got so little utility out of them? They were just a sunk cost. 

“So it’s reacting to the Dragon Stream,” Hibiki says to dismiss the heavy awkwardness that’s befallen them. He ignores the way he unintentionally rubs his hands together and marvels in how _soft_ the fabric feels against his skin.

Apparently that was the _wrong_ thing to say because Yamato is yet again looking over at him. Instead of bewilderment, there is a sharp look of distrust. Hibiki doesn’t remember the last time that was there. It hurts.

“How do you know about that?”

“Um.” Quick, Kuze. “You’re twins with the Chief, sir.” Toss in that pleasantry just to be safe.

“That is not common knowledge, regardless,” Yamato presses further.

“We go way back,” Hibiki says with a nervous laugh, flicking his gaze away. There’s an unsettling feeling gnawing its way through him and he wants off this horrible ride. “I helped her once, before I officially joined JP’s. There was a rogue demon that had escaped its Seal. That’s how I knew about what JP’s did and why the Chief hired me.”

It’s a weak story filled with holes but it seems to placate Yamato for the time-being. There’s an obvious roll of his eyes and his lips purse tightly into a thin line. “Still… it isn’t like her to mention sensitive information to civilians.”

Civilians? “She was caught off guard. Her phone got knocked out of her hand and I used it. I was able to summon with it.”

Yamato doesn’t even bother mentioning the glaring discrepancies in his story. Instead, the General’s attention reverts back to the stone. “Oyamatsumi was sealed here long ago. The Hotsuin clan aimed to weaken his attachment to his previous earthly domain by confining him here.” That wasn’t in the report. Hibiki nods, and it does make a great deal of sense. Why would anyone want to seal a demon where it was most powerful? Where it took up natural residency and was rumored to exist? After another moment, Yamato continues, “The Seal is in good condition. It won’t be in jeopardy for another several decades.”

That’s it? That’s the show?

Hibiki frowns, hugging his arms tightly to his chest. _That_ was the mission? Simply to check on the Seal and realize it was doing fine and then _leave_? Was JP’s in a renewed, recreated world really that bored that they’d send one of their best Generals to go keep tabs on Seals that weren’t in apparent need of repair? Something wasn’t settling right for Hibiki; he had gone through enough resets and enough catastrophes.

Something wasn’t _right_ , but Hibiki didn’t have nearly enough clues, enough _context_ to figure it out. Maybe it was just a weird time-and-universe paradox? 

Yamato’s hand falls away from the stone and retrieves his phone. With a cursory glance he flips it shut and meets Hibiki’s curious stare.

“There is enough time to return before lunch.”

“We’re going back to the office?” Hibiki’s voice is more inquisitive than it is disappointed. It surprises him. 

“There are a few deadlines to make, yes.”

Yamato nods, his hand passing over the stone one last time before he walks away from the bell. His footsteps are silent and Hibiki can’t help but watch his every movement.

“Right.” JP’s was always busy and Yamato was a workaholic. Some things apparently never changed even with the rewriting of the world.

“The car is waiting. Let’s not delay.”

* * * 

“Why am I not surprised?”

It’s dinnertime and Hibiki mercilessly is free from his obligations back at the office. After a text from Airi, he made his way out to a small café to meet up with her. Her text mentioned something about Jungo but the wording wasn’t entirely clear. Nonetheless, he hadn’t had a _real_ chance to catch up with Airi since the world was reset so he easily agreed. He just had no idea that it would be at a _cat_ café. And that Jungo would be behind the counter, happily brewing lattes as a few calicos crowded him chirping.

Airi just laughs, leaning her cheek against the back of her hand as she watches her friend. “Yeah, no, Hinako and I weren’t surprised at all… I mean I’m glad he’s happy and everything!”

Hibiki’s lips twist up into a smile. “Yeah? You care about his happiness, Airi?”

“H-hey!” she almost shrieks, leaning out of her seat to jab her finger at him. “He’s one of my best friends, so of course I do! … Sheesh, don’t you understand anything?”

Hibiki bursts out into a tiny fit of laughter. He covers it for the most part, turning his head into the crook of his neck and shoulder, but there are still choked noises that manage to escape. Apparently it draws Jungo’s attention because less than thirty seconds later the tall teenager is standing beside their table with their coffee and a shining smile.

“Jungo!” Hibiki greets as he sits up in his chair and graciously takes his coffee. “So you’re working here now?”

“I am,” Jungo repeats and the smile continues to grow, “I do not know why they think this is work for me, though. I am just happy to be surrounded by so many friends and Jungo.”

“You brought Jungo here?” Airi asks, a touch of concern edging out in her tone.

“Of course,” Jungo says simply, “Jungo likes company and Jungo is doing very well here. Jungo has all the new friends.”

Hibiki can’t help the snort. It isn’t surprising in the least bit that Jungo would bring his namesake cat to the café. 

“He is hiding right now. I think he is napping,” Jungo says and slides Airi’s coffee closer to her. “I remembered what foods you said you liked. I tried to match those tastes to your coffee. Please enjoy it, Airi.”

An unmistakable blush blossoms on her face and she hurriedly takes a sip. Hibiki distinctly hears a mutter of _Stupid Jungo_ under her breath. Some things never change, apparently. As the two friends exchange pleasantries, Hibiki’s gaze strays from the cluster of cats to the window. The sun is setting and the street lights are systematically turning on, one by one. It’s beautiful. Something inside Hibiki aches and he tries to fill the void with a sip of coffee. He burns his tongue.

“Oh! Would you like an ice cube?”

Apparently that gets Jungo’s attention because he’s leaning down almost directly in Hibiki’s face. 

“I’m fine!” Hibiki almost squeaks. Jungo seems to be placated because he leans with a huge smile. 

“By the way… I think Jungo may be having kittens.”

Oh my god.

“Really?”

“Yes. Jungo seems fatter than usual.”

“That’s great!” Hibiki says and he notices Airi is staring at their friend with sparkly eyes. Could it be that cute kittens are her weakness? Go figure.

“Would you like one when the time comes, friend?”

“Maybe? I’ll let you know. I’m moving into a new place soon and-”

“Really!? Oh my gosh why didn’t you tell anyone?! We need to help you move,” Airi inserts herself, slamming her hands down on the table. Jungo and Hibiki look towards her, equally baffled. “Seriously! We’ll get you some boxes and help out!”

“Yes. Leave it to me, friend. I would like to help you.” Jungo seems just as determined.

“Oh…Okay? Sure. Thanks,” Hibiki says, albeit a bit nervously, uncertain how to process and accept the sudden kindness. 

“I have to get back to coffee, but please come visit again, Hibiki.”

“Thanks, Jungo. I will.”

With that, Jungo heads back to the counter and resumes work. Airi, on the other hand, begins to look lost in her own thoughts. Hibiki doesn’t think anything about it and returns to his coffee before it has the chance to get cold. Maybe now he won’t burn his tongue? That’d be nice. 

“Um, so Hibiki…”

“Hm?”

Hibiki looks up from the pleasant steam of his coffee. It doesn’t take a genius to discern what the look of concern on Airi’s face is stemming from. His stomach restlessly churns and he takes an anticipatory sip in order to brace himself. He needs all the caffeine. 

“About Yamato…”

It was only a matter of time until she brought him up. It made sense – Airi and Yamato never truly saw eye to eye but Airi, like the others, had grown rather fond of him during that last reset. He was one of their friends – a comrade who understood the perils of the world and that fought valiantly alongside them. It was only natural that a friend would be concerned. 

“He still doesn’t remember,” Hibiki says and finds himself distractedly fiddling with the collar of his hoodie. “I’m working for him, though. So I can keep an eye on him.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, suddenly growing flustered. “How dare he forget about us?! What a big idiot! We all went through that together and he’s just going to _forget_?”

Hibiki tenses. “I don’t think it’s his fault?”

Airi makes a frustrated noise through her pursed lips. “I still think it is. That big idiot needs to learn how to be a better friend.” There’s a dramatic pause and she adds, “Especially to you!”

“Especially to me,” Hibiki echoes and then asks, “Why?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about you being his favorite person! Hibiki this, Hibiki that. Blah blah blah. And now he’s just treating you like a grunt? Ugh, it makes me so mad.” She blinks. “…Not _for_ you. It just irritates me. I’m angry about it.”

Hibiki wants to laugh at how genuinely charming she is. Even with how much Airi has grown, she still struggles with admitting how close she is to the others – that she values their happiness just as much as her own. Airi is amazing and Hibiki can’t count his blessings enough.

“Maybe we should _make_ him remember,” Airi huffs. “Punch him until his head starts acting right again.”

“You know, I think that may just work,” Hibiki jests, though there is a mischievous glint to his eyes at the mere thought of kicking the crap out of Yamato for this mess. 

“I don’t get it, though,” Airi says after the murderous look has left her eyes. “We worked so hard. It was supposed to be perfect. I thought we fixed things. Why does he have to go and ruin it for all of us.”

“If I could find Saiduq I’d ask,” Hibiki murmurs.

“Oh yeah that guy. You haven’t seen him, either?”

“No. But he kind of just comes and goes as he pleases?”

“Yeah,” Airi agrees and then visibly shudders. “Why does he have to do that? Just poof! Out of nowhere! And he just creepily leans over your shoulder.”

“Maybe it’s a compliment,” Hibiki says as he rolls his shoulders in a shrug.

Despite the heavy topic, the tone of the conversation is light. It’s something he needed after the stressful and yet surprisingly uneventful day at work. If this was how things were going to be from now on, so be it. He’d just have to work extra hard on breaking Yamato out of his shell once again. There was a troubled teenager deep down and Hibiki would devise a plan to make him realize the worth of the world yet again. It’d be his new mission. There was no way he could possibly fail, right?

“So, um,” Airi starts up again and her hands are neatly tucked away in her music-note covered scarf. “You don’t _have_ to answer this, but stupid Hina won’t stop pestering me to ask you. She thinks you’d tell me over her, I don’t know where she gets that dumb idea, but!” She calms down but her fidgeting continues. “What exactly were you and Yamato?”

His brain disconnects in that moment. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, there’s a loud beeping that’s the sounding of an alarm. Somewhere, his circuit boards overheat at the mere inquiry. Someone _actually_ has the stubbornness to ask him plainly about his relationship with Chief Yamato Hotsuin Could he do a system reset? Could he just 404 Error forever?

“Hibiki?” she asks, nervously. “Hey, you’re getting really pale! Drink some water!”

He ignores her fretting and bites the inside of his bottom lip; it’s a poor attempt at regulating his breathing. The sad part is is that he has no idea _what_ he and Yamato were. Even if he did have some sort of clue, none of that mattered now. Yamato was a blank slate and barely tolerated his new and mouthy agent. 

“I was his first friend,” Hibiki begins to explain, wringing his hands uselessly. “He didn’t have a chance to meet many people growing up. He grew up way too fast, I think.”

“Oh.” Airi nods fiercly. “I think you were that for a lot of us! Maybe not our first friends, but … we felt safe around you. Or something.” There’s a blush and she begins rambling, “You were really strong and all, is all I’m saying! It was easy to rely on someone else to make the decisions.”

“Thanks, Airi,” Hibiki says. He doesn’t need her to clarify on the subtext – he gets it loud and clear.

“If you were that special to him, I don’t think it’s hopeless,” says Airi as she makes a show of stirring her lattee. “We’re all made of data or whatever, right? Even if the world reset, there’s probably some weird kernel of data there where it used to be connected to you. I don’t know. All of that Record stuff was confusing.”

 _Still a kernel, huh_? Hibiki pauses and allows himself to entertain the idea. The basics of what she was suggesting were true – everyone was made of data and true, while they were now freed from the Record and from invaders, there had to be something in Yamato’s coding – in his existence – that had vestiges of his old memories. Some severed connections. Fumi would know more about it, probably.

“Thanks, Airi. That actually helps a lot.”

“You’re welcome? I mean, yeah, duh! Of course!” There’s a expression of determination that is rarely matched. 

A kernel… Could it be that simple?

* * * 

Wednesday comes just as early and brightly as the mornings before. Hibiki struggles to roll out of bed. Two more days and he can move into his new place, closer to the office and free of his Mother’s control. Two more days and he can start truly rebuilding his life – a new place where his friends are key and he can make a difference in the world, even if he’s stuck on paperwork duty for awhile.

Hibiki gets to work earlier than he intends. Instead of going straight to his office he makes a detour to the garden. It’s nothing impressive, and it’s tucked away on the third floor out of the way of a lot of foot traffic. But it’s there and it’s peaceful and Hibiki needs to just _not think_ for awhile. Even if it’s cold as hell out and he hasn’t bothered to go fetch his jacket from his office.

There’s a tiny stone bench that he found his first time here. Yamato had taken him on a tour of the JP’s building and had sat here and explained his ideal world for the first time. There had been a spark of determination, of youthful passion, and Hibiki had been utterly fascinated, affixed, taken in. It had taken every part of Hibiki not to agree with Yamato – it had taken every single fibre of his being not to join him in his endeavor and pursue a world together.

The memory tastes sour on his lips and he shrinks. The memory replays in his head and he wonders if he had taken that offer, if had reached out and taken that hand and become his equal if he’d still have his friend. It’s a selfish thought – a thought that places the fate of the world only second to his own selfish desires. But it’s a possibility and it’s a timeline where maybe things could have been different.

Hibiki’s eyes focus and then blur on the small fountain several feet away. Tumultuous thoughts continue bombarding him and there’s a stinging hot pressure at the corner of his eyes. It was inevitable, really. It’s just remarkable that it took this long to happen. All this stress, all these memories, all of _this_?

The ache in his chest is stronger than ever and he presses the heel of his palm to his eyes to try and will away what can only be the building of tears. It’d be easier to just cry, get it over with, and continue onward. He has a responsibility to the world – he has to make it a better place now that they’ve been given this second chance. He has to be _strong_ and the _leader_ they all believed him to be.

No. No he was supposed to be traveling the world with his friend right now. He was supposed to be showing Yamato how truly beautiful the world was and that everyone was worth saving. That life was precious. They were supposed to be jumping between shitty hotels and trying street food and…

 _And_ …

And he was supposed to fall in love. 

It hits him like a truck. The impact of that train of thought hurts like _hell_ but it’s not the least bit shocking if that makes any sense. It makes so little sense. But what makes sense anymore? Not much.

He was supposed to gradually fall in love with the beautifully intelligent and passionate younger Hotsuin. He was supposed to blush and fluster and stumble over himself eight thousand times before he finally had the courage to reach out – touch that pale skin, meet those resolute eyes – and …

“Kuze.”

The weight of heavy fabric lands on his shoulders. The scent of something like lavender and freshly fallen rain assaults his senses and he’s acutely aware of the fact that it’s Yamato Hotsuin’s jacket engulfing him and isn’t that the most fucking bittersweet turn of events?

“Are you that determined to catch a cold?”

A healthy red spreads up Hibiki’s neck and splashes his cheeks. “Maybe I’m gunning for sick time already,” he jokes and is unable to fight the urge to touch the fastenings of the jacket – they’re similar to his own but Yamato’s are a bit different. He holds a strip of fabric between his index finger and thumb and just breathes.

Yamato appears within eyesight as he walks over to the fountain. It’s always remarkable how _slender_ he is without that bulky jacket. His thin frame glows exquisitely in the morning light, arms crossed and body cocked just slightly to the right. 

Hibiki feels weak.

“It took you an impressively short amount of time to find this,” Yamato says and Hibiki barely hears him over the pounding of his own heart. 

“I’m good at playing detective, I guess. Even at work,” Hibiki forces himself to say as he tilts his head to the side, nose brushing against the firm fabric. The combination of scent and sensation sends his senses into overdrive and he’s so goddamn thankful Yamato isn’t looking at him in that second.

“Perhaps I underestimated you,” Yamato says and it sounds so _familiar_ , the edges of his voice warming to the touch with recognizable praise and acknowledgment. 

“Maybe you did,” Hibiki answers.

As Yamato turns back to him, steely grey eyes visible even with the sun beating brightly in the distant, Hibiki finds his resolve temporarily slip. Without the weight of the end of the world, without the pressure of making decisions, without the constant threat of death, it’s so much easier just to _look_ at him and feel an undeniable pull. The slope of his jaw and neck are agonizing and there’s a steadfastness to his eyes even in simple moments like these.

“You’re going against your own advice, you know,” Hibiki says against his better judgment, a tiny smile surfacing from the ashes of his own heart.

“Am I?” He looks confused.

“You’re going to catch a cold because you’re too busy giving your subordinates your jacket.” 

Something gentle glows in Yamato’s eyes and Hibiki _swears_ he sees the twist of a smile as the General turns to the left. “There are certain sacrifices worth making.” And he heads back towards the door, footsteps loud in the quiet of the morning.

Hibiki’s heart lurches and he makes a noise that’s a cross between a choke and a gasp. Yamato doesn’t turn around but his hand lingers on the doorknob. The bond between them – fate – desperately pulls and Hibiki wants to get to his feet, wants to rush over and hug his friend, wants to tell him how much he’s _missed_ him and was afraid but he doesn’t. All he does is stare.

“Still meeting at nine?” is what finally comes out of Hibiki’s lips.

There’s a heavy silence that stretches on forever and then, “Yes.” And he’s gone.

Hibiki remains rooted to the spot. His fingers glide over the edges of the jacket, acutely aware of the fact he’s still wearing, that Yamato didn’t ask for it back, that it’s _Yamato’s_. A kernel, Airi had said. A residual memory. A connection that wasn’t yet there but had shadows, remnants, _fragments_. Was it possible? If demons still existed, maybe some of the world’s previous data remained – maybe memories laid dormant.

_Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth_  
__Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts__  
Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you  
_You don't care a bit, you don't care a little bit_  



	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hibiki trains, the group helps him move in, and he may or may not be closer to his goal than he thought.
> 
> what do you do when you're stressed out?  
> write copious amounts of fic apparently.

Thursday was no better than Wednesday. In fact, Thursday was worse. Wednesday had been filled with monotonous meetings and training regiments. Thankfully it had been Makoto to lead the training and Hibiki was able to shamelessly work out his irritation. She didn’t bother asking – she already knew. Still, with a few world resets, apparently you start to get rusty and your ability to summon demons is, yet again, reduced. Apparently the phone app still worked in this world but was highly restricted to tops JP’s personnel. Since Hibiki was training to eventually become a General it only made sense to give him access to the app.

He had a lot of questions. Just what demons were there? Had JP’s – and by extension the Hotsuin clan - in this world managed to seal away all of them over the centuries? Were there any rogue demons? A quick perusal of the internet confirmed that demons were the stuff made out of ghost stories and urban legends. No outbreaks, no confirmed sightings. If this was the world they were going to make their own, it’s definitely not the worst.

So Hibiki will train hard and make this _work_.

There’s something soothing in the way Byakko rushes forward in a bolt of white and blue lightning. There’s instant recognition on Byakko’s part and immediately the demon takes up residency at Hibiki’s side, easily towering over him. Why can’t it be that easy for _Yamato_?

So by the time Thursday comes, Hibiki is sore, irritated and exhausted. It’s been a hell of a week juggling with the imminent move and packing, the stress of being an adult, and the Yamato situation. In hindsight maybe he could have spaced this out a bit better. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

* * * 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to train two days in a row? Isn’t there an off day to recover?”

Hibiki is idly running his fingers down the smooth side of his phone. It isn’t that he’s _nervous_ about making a complete fool of himself in front of his boss, but okay maybe that’s exactly the reason. His training with Makoto hadn’t gone stellar and he’s very certain that the General’s demons could easily wipe the floor with him. Hibiki was already feeling lethargic and the idea of having to quickly react to Yamato’s cutthroat techniques didn’t make for the most pleasant Thursday morning.

“Sako trained with you yesterday?” Yamato asks and by god he sounds more curious than anything and Hibiki had been near certain that he was going to be ripped a new one for complaining the first week. 

“Yeah. Just went over some basics,” Hibiki says and subconsciously reaches up to touch a tiny bruise at the far end of his jaw. “She didn’t hold back.”

There’s a curl of Yamato’s lips and the bastard is _smirking_ isn’t he? What kind of sadist is this guy? Still, Yamato nods and thoughtfully taps his foot against the dirt floor of the training area, as if deeply rooted in contemplation. God only knows about what.

“There are no breaks in battle,” Yamato nearly scolds, but the smirk is still there and he’s clicking some buttons on his phone.

Seconds later, a very familiar beast appears feet in front of him. Cerberus immediately shakes its mane, stretching its limbs and then lets out a resounding roar. It nearly shakes the whole arena. Hibiki is about to flip his phone open and jam down some buttons to summon Byakko but he’s too slow. 

One minute Hibiki is trying to run through a weakness and strategy analysis and the next he’s being unceremoniously slammed to the ground. Big paws cage him to the floor on either side of his body. A warm, almost moist breath blows on his face and when Hibiki’s recovered enough to open his eyes, he’s staring up into the glowing eyes of Cerberus. Weaker men would have fainted on the spot.

“C’mon, I didn’t even have the chance to summon yet,” Hibiki says from his grave, nervously smiling up at the familiar beast.

“I didn’t do it,” Yamato says and he sounds utterly _miffed_.

Hibiki blinks for a collective five seconds before a very barbed and enthusiastic tongue is covering his face. There are in fact no teeth and no paralysis-inducing spells. No, all the beast is doing is languidly coating his face with saliva. A noise that sounds distinctly like a _purr_ rumbles in the beast’s chest and Hibiki starts laughing. Cerberus, the enemy of millions, is acting like a spoiled puppy.

“Hi to you too,” Hibiki says through peels of laughter, squirming when the tongue tickles his throat. His hand unabashedly lifts up and threads back into the rough fur of the beast. Hibiki dares to look beyond the big dog back towards the General who is staring down at his phone as if it just stabbed him in the back. “Do all your demons do this, General?”

Yamato scowls and he looks up from the phone, meeting electric blue eyes. Hibiki’s own gaze softens and Yamato’s remains perplexed, watching the sight before him with zero understanding.

Hibiki manages to push himself up into a sitting position just in time for Cerberus to head-butt him lovingly. The purring continues but thankfully the licking seems to have run its course. Which is great, because Hibiki thinks his hair is now gelled in an absurd fashion. He doubts this look will catch on and become the new trend.

There’s a warmth bleeding out all through his chest. Even if Yamato doesn’t remember him, Cerberus does. There’s a link. There’s still a kernel, just like Airi suggested, and if this stupid ball of fur still recognizes him then there’s hope and there’s some code, some data _somewhere_ that keeps their fates unequivocally intertwined. Hibiki could almost cry in relief.

“Cerberus, enough,” Yamato says, voice commanding and booming and regrettably the demon steps back from Hibiki. Obediently, the demon returns to its tamer’s side and takes a seat beside him. And then promptly lays down, eyes never leaving Hibiki.

Hibiki remains where he is for a few moments longer. His hand weakly reaches up to touch his hair, frowning when he confirms that it is indeed _wet_ and sticky. But he laughs. It’s so absurd and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Yamato looks like he’s about to say something but he’s cut short when the door to the arena opens. Standing in the doorway is Fumi, jacket wrapped around her shoulders. When her gaze sweeps over the scene and an unmistakable – but horribly lazy – smirk takes shape.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys,” Fumi begins and she watches in absolute pleasure as Yamato stiffens, “But Otome told me to come fetch wonderboy here.” Her thumb points in Hibiki’s general direction. “Something about a physical or something? Don’t ask me.”

“Right now?” Yamato sighs in utter vexation.

“Like I said, take it up with Otome. I’m just the innocent middle man,” Fumi crows and then heads over to Hibiki, ignoring the narrowing of Yamato’s eyes. “What’s with the hair?”

Hibiki smiles up at her, fingers playing with messy curls. The smile morphs into a flinch when he flicks away a blob of saliva. Gross. Demons are gross. “Someone was happy to see me.”

Fumi can’t help but chuckle. Unlike the General, _someone_ is capable of picking up on an innuendo. “On the clock?” She cants her head to the side and it’s _just so nice_ to see her finally.

“Kanno,” Yamato interrupts and he doesn’t seem happy at _all_.

“Don’t worry, General,” she snorts, “I’m not stealing him away for good.”

Fumi offers her hand and Hibiki happily takes it. He stumbles to his feet and watches in amusement as Fumi waves her hand around, trying to dry whatever remnants of beast-saliva had managed to transfer during their exchange. 

“You know,” Fumi begins, voice barely above a drawl of a whisper. She’s close and it’s on purpose. “For someone who apparently doesn’t remember, he’s already acting like an overprotective guard dog.”

A healthy blush surges on Hibiki’s face and he laughs, the sound awkward to his ears. His throat is dry and it shows. “Or he’s just upset you’re interrupting our training.”

“Eh, who knows,” Fumi says and raises her voice again, “So, General, permission to collect the tamer?”

“Tell her she can have him later,” Yamato says, arms folding to his chest. There’s a sharpness to his voice that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “In order to remain on schedule, this training must be completed by the end of the day.”

“The world’s not ending, General,” Fumi says and she watches as Hibiki stiffens at that _wonderful choice of words_. Hibiki misses the similar stiffening of Yamato’s expression. “What’s a few hours going to set you back? Delay renewing a Seal?”

“A few hours?!” Yamato sounds flabbergasted. “What sort of physical is Yanagiya planning to perform?” It’s probably wishful thinking but Yamato’s voice sounds jealous.

“Again, I’m not the doctor here,” Fumi sighs loudly and taps Hibiki’s forehead for good measure. “Though I’d love to do some more research on that brain of yours. According to the Chief, you’re kind of the hottest new thing here.” She has the audacity to _wink_ and it’s all sorts of wrong. Hibiki wants to strangle her for this creative torture.

“The Chief…” Yamato _scoffs_ and his hands are little balled up fists at this side. Aparently Fumi’s evil plan is working. “There will be no experiments done on Kuze. Now please take your leave, Kanno.”

“Riiiight. Of course, General.” Fumi steps away, arms folding across her chest. Her steps are lazy and she stops less than a foot away from Yamato, mindful not to step on Cerberus. “Never seen your demon act that way before. Maybe something is short-circuiting on your phone.”

There’s a knowing look that dawns her features and she makes her leave. Yamato watches her go, eyes narrow and brows furrowed. He looks faintly distraught and Hibiki isn’t sure whether to call attention to it or not. The past few minutes go on replay and he can’t help but focus on the sinking feeling that something is _off_. But it’s not a bad thing. It doesn’t feel _disastrous_. 

He’s distracted the remainder of training, but Yamato is no better.

* * * 

Thursday absolutely sucks. After a very tiring physical and question and answer session with Otome, and a quick one-on-one with Fumi, Hibiki finally makes it back to his office. It’s already dinnertime and he hasn’t finished the two reports that are due tomorrow. One is for Yamato and another is for another General that Miyako had directly assigned to him. The urge to come in early the next morning to finish them tempts him but there’s no way that he can force himself out of bed that early. So he slumps into his chair and gets to work, headache not helping in the least.

By the time he finishes the reports it’s at least eleven. Unattractive bags have formed under Hibiki’s eyes and the urge to take a nap in his chair keeps presenting itself. But he resists. He has a bed back home and packing left to do. He just needs to remain alert for another half hour. He’ll deliver this report to Yamato’s office and then head home. 

He doesn’t expect Yamato to be there. But there he is, sitting at his desk, door slightly ajar, hands folded together and chin resting on top. His gaze is locked with his laptop and he seems to be intensely engrossed in whatever he’s reading. Hibiki almost doesn’t want to knock. Maybe if he slides the report under the door at such an angle where Yamato can’t _see_ him, he can make his great escape. 

It’s futile, though, because after a few minutes of standing there like an idiot, Yamato finally notices him.

“Kuze?” he asks, and he sounds so _tired_.

“Hey,” Hibiki answers without the salute or pleasantries. He thinks that eleven at night is enough of an excuse. 

Yamato doesn’t seem to mind because he gestures blandly at the chair opposite his desk. Hibiki nods and easily slumps into, his body going boneless. It’s so much more comfortable than his own desk chair and he thinks he could easily sleep here for the night. It wouldn’t be so bad – he wouldn’t have to worry about the transit in the morning or tonight. 

“I thought you had already taken your leave for the evening,” Yamato says as he turns away from his computer screen to stare at Hibiki. He notices the report and makes a small noise that sounds like an ‘ah.’

“Didn’t want to be late,” Hibiki says and he tiredly places the report on the edge of Yamato’s desk. There’s a surge of relief and accomplishment that follows and maybe this job won’t be so bad after all. There’s some twisted satisfaction that comes from defeating a nearly impossible feat.

“Of course.” There it is again, that curl of Yamato’s lips. 

It’s too late to be doing this, Hibiki thinks, because his eyes drop to Yamato’s lips and linger for a long time. He feels his eyes getting heavier and he hugs his arms tightly to his chest, the coat rustling at the disruption.

“Our next mission is not until Monday morning,” Yamato explains, “so you will have the weekend to recover and prepare.”

“Good,” Hibiki says and lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It doesn’t work too well. “I’m moving this weekend, though, so I’m not sure how much rest I can manage.”

“Moving?”

“Out of my Mom’s place, yeah.” He isn’t sure why he’s divulging this nonsense to Yamato but it keeps spilling forth, “I found a place that was affordable near the office. So… I figured since I’m a big adult with a fancy job I should start acting like one. And that’s the story.”

Yamato looks pensive but eventually nods in understanding. “Do you have much to move?”

“Not really. I’m ordering a lot of new stuff to be delivered. Pretty much just my desk and bed need to move. But I have a truck ordered.” Hibiki rubs his eyes this time. “I’m going to be eating on the floor the first few days before I get a table and chairs. Or a couch.”

There’s a low rumble and Hibiki realizes that it’s a _chuckle_. The noise makes his face tint a light pink and he feels that familiar clawing at his stomach. “That would be quite the sight.”

“I’ll take pictures,” Hibiki promises against his better judgment.

Yamato blinks at him thrice but then looks to his computer. Hibiki thinks that maybe he just got too informal with his boss, and he’s about to mentally reprimand himself, but Yamato speaks up again, “You are welcome to dine with me, in that case, until you have the proper furniture.”

Hibiki’s glad he’s already sitting because if he wasn’t he’d have fallen over in shock. His heart starts to race and the very idea of having dinner with Yamato Hotsuin, with how he feels, with all the repressed feelings between them, it excites him and absolutely _terrifies_ himself. Hibiki has resolve but he’s human and that long with someone that he wants to befriend, wants to brush the stupidly perfect hair out of his face –

“I’d have to get your number, in that case, since I won’t be in the office during the weekend.”

“Mm.” Yamato seems to take the challenge because he’s reaching for a piece of paper. To Hibiki’s amazement, he writes down a number and passes it over.

Hibiki thinks he could die happy. 

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” Hibiki: the most eloquent.

“If you no longer need it, I can reclaim my jacket at that time as well.”

The dawning realization that he’s been in possession of Yamato’s jacket since Wednesday morning strikes him to the core. What’s worse is that in his tired stupor he had thought it to be a _wonderful_ idea to wear it around his own office. It was warm and it reminded him of what he was fighting for and he had forgotten his own jacket and – and he was still wearing it. In front of Yamato. And he hadn’t said a damned thing, the bastard.

“You know,” Hibiki chokes out but tries to smooth it over with a weak smile, “They have a lot of names for you around here. But I don’t think they’re true.”

“Names?” Yamato looks unimpressed.

“The Icy General,” Hibiki supplies.

“Should I be?” Yamato asks and there’s an absolutely terrifying glint to his eyes. 

“Maybe.” Hibiki yawns again but the smile is undeniable. 

“Go home and get some rest, Kuze.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that.” He rises to his feet, fingers slipping into the pockets of his jacket, of Yamato’s jacket. “Have a good night then, General. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, goodnight.”

* * * 

“ _Hina_!”

Airi is shrieking from the top of the stairs. Much to Hibiki’s dismay the shriek is followed by a well-timed _crash_ and he’s certain a box just fell somewhere. He prays that it isn’t his limited dishware. Or his laptop. God, anything but that.

“You guys okay up there?” Hibiki asks as he climbs the steps to his apartment and nudges the door open with his foot.

Airi and Hinako are standing in the middle of his very empty living room. Airi’s finger is pointing accusingly at the taller girl and Hinako is just clutching her sides, unable to reel in her fits of laughter. Hibiki isn’t exactly sure _what_ happened but he’s certain there’s a story to be had. His gaze drifts to Jungo who is in the small kitchen, unpacking dishware and systematically putting it away. The man is a true blessing to humanity.

“She told me there was a mouse!” Airi hollers and that just gets Hinako laughing even louder.

“How could I not? You’re so gullible,” Hinako says with all the love in the world. “Your face was priceless! Come on, Ai. You have to admit it was _pretty funny_.”

“No!” Airi shrieks again and stomps her foot. “You scared Hibiki! What if he had dropped something?!”

“What was the thud?” Hibiki finds himself asking.

They both turn to him and Hinako starts laughing once more. Airi, on the other hand, begins to fidget with the ends of her scarf and her face matches the shade of her hair. “Stupid Hina scared me and I sort of fell.”

“You fell? Are you okay?” Hibiki asks and ignores the way Hinako chokes on her laugh.

“Yeah, duh! At least _you_ care about me,” Airi whines but then quickly pedals. “M-my safety, I mean! I, argh. I hate you all.” She huffs and goes to join Jungo in the kitchen, face on fire and trying to fight off the smile beneath the irritation. Hibiki’s never loved her more.

“When’s the wedding?” Hibiki asks as he sets down the box and looks towards Hinako. The dancer has finally managed to regain composure and is wiping beads of metaphorical sweat off her forehead. Then again, for all he knows, maybe she really is sweating from all that laughter.

“The wedding?” she asks but then her eyes bug out and she slams her hands down on her hips. “ _Whose_ wedding?”

“Nothing!” Hibiki chirps but can’t help but notice the red sprawling over Hinako’s face. It’s so obvious that it hurts and he wonders when the two of them will stop this painful charade. It’s annoying and all he wants is for his friends to be happy. There’s something to be said about the third world where their wishes had brought about their fame _together_. But Hibiki won’t press on that.

“You must have been talking about your own wedding,” Hinako scolds and quickly turns the tables. “Did he really say he’d _have dinner with you_ just because you didn’t have a table?”

“Um.” Hibiki swallows audibly and looks towards the kitchen for help. Apparently he’s burned too many bridges because no one is flying in to save him. Jerks. “He did say that, yup. He also yelled at Fumi for wanting to do experiments on me and for Otome performing a _really long_ physical on me.”

Hinako chuckles and Hibiki feels death slowly approaching. “Wow,” she drawls. “He must have it _bad_ already. You work fast.”

“Do not,” Hibiki says with a pout. “All I’ve done is do my work in a timely fashion and go on a mission with him.”

“A mission,” Hinako presses, “for his heart?”

“I feel so attacked right now,” Hibiki says in near deadpan before he wrinkles his nose. “He may have forgotten but Cerberus remembers. I think we got to second base at least.”

“Hibiki!” Hinako shouts, flustering all over again. “Ew, gross, can you _not_?” In that moment she sounds more like Airi than herself and Hibiki again wonders why the hell they aren’t already dating. 

“I think Yamato was jealous,” Hibiki laughs and picks up the box and brings it to his tiny bedroom, leaving Hinako to gasp for air.

In that moment there’s a loud knock to the (already open) front door. Hibiki returns to the living room just in time to lay witness to Daichi, Io and Joe arriving with bags of what appear to be groceries. 

“Guys,” Hibiki begins, his face turning red all over again. “Guys, you didn’t—”

“Of course!” Io giggles and she leads the boys into the already crowded kitchen. Airi sidesteps to give them room. “What’s home without food and friends?”

“Yeah! And some beer, but don’t tell the cops,” Joe says as he lifts a six pack out of a brown paper bag. No one is surprised. Daichi tosses him a _flat look_ but Joe keeps grinning like he’s just told the funniest joke in existence. “C’mon, c’mon. I’m not forcing anyone to have any. I’m just giving the kid the best housewarming gift ever.”

“You’re unbelievable, man,” Daichi groans and sets down the jugs of water and juice he’s brought with him. 

“You shoulda invited Yamato,” Joe says as he removes a can from the packet and opens it. He proceeds to walk over to Hibiki and offer it up. Cautiously, Hibiki takes it, wincing at the unfamiliar scent drifting up from the opened can. Do people really drink this?

“To my housewarming and moving party?” Hibiki asks and he incredulously takes a sip. It tastes bitter.

“Heh.” This brings about a pat to Hibiki’s head. 

Twenty minutes later and the group is sitting on the floor of his new living room. Joe’s already placed an order for delivery and everyone is happily catching up with one another. It brings a smile to Hibiki’s face to see his friends reunited once more. While it’s by no means the entire group, it’s a start and he feels relief flooding through him. Even if some things about this world aren’t perfect his friends and he can accept that. This is a good start and one he thinks he can make the best of.

Hibiki is listening to Daichi tell a story when his phone buzzes. Suspecting one of the girls that isn’t present, Hibiki turns away to check it. He’s surprised to see an unfamiliar number pop up. Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens the message. It’s a bad decision, in hindsight, because he almost drops his beer and spills it all over himself.

 **[18:05] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** I gave this weekend some thought. Are you a fan of takoyaki?

Hibiki stares at his phone for a solid minute before he digs into his pocket for the slip of paper from the other day. He hasn’t had a chance to input the number into his phone but there it is, matching the digits on his screen. Once he’s confirmed that, he rereads the message and he sputters. Absolutely _sputters_. That has to be a very strange coincidence, right? Some residual memory and fondness of the street food?

“What? What!” Daichi has noticed by that point and is eagerly leaning over, trying to catch a glimpse at Hibiki’s phone. To his credit, Hibiki is still sputtering and doing nothing to protect the contents of his screen.

“Takoyaki?” Daichi asks, sounding confused. “Did you just get spam asking about _food_?”

Hibiki’s grip on his phone tightens and he tries not to suck in too deep of a breath. It fails miserably because he’s managed to steal Joe’s attention now, too. The older man is exchanging glances with Daichi; it isn’t helping to expound on the situation.

 **[18:09] SENT:** Of course I am. Let’s do that. Where do you want to meet?

“Who the hell are you—” Daichi begins to ask but realization dawns on him and he’s looking from Hibiki’s phone to his face with absolutel _delight_. “Dude, _dude_. You’re planning a date with him already? About time! Well, like, not in this world but it’s _about time_ in general.”

“A date?” Joe blinks at Daichi owlishly. “With – Oh! With General Grumpy himself. Heh. I get it.”

 **[18:10] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** Excellent. It is no burden for me to meet you at your new residency. 

“Annnnnnd he still talks like a robot,” Daichi murmurs, chin resting on Hibiki’s shoulder as he watches the conversation play out. There must be some karma left in the world for Hibiki Kuze because no one else has managed to notice that he’s flushing scarlet and texting with trembling hands. 

**[18:10] SENT:** Careful. You’re going to make the other agents jealous.

“You just sent that. You just _said that_ ,” Daichi groans.

“Leave me alone,” Hibiki huffs, his ears absolutely _burning_.

 **[18:11] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** Why is that?

 **[18:11] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** No other agents under my tutelage are deserving.

“…Has he always been this bad?” Daichi gawks. “Like, I thought he was pretty bad in person but oh my god, if this is the crap he’s been sending you all along, I can’t believe you haven’t just-”

“Hit that?” Joe supplies helpfully.

“Gross, no one asked you, man!” Daichi barks as he rips himself from Hibiki’s shoulder. That’s enough to engage the two in a conversation that Hibiki isn’t exactly interested in. Instead, Hibiki focuses on the way his hands tremble and he smiles as he thumbs back another text.

 **[18:12] SENT:** Kay. I’ll send you my address, then. (*°▽°*)

 **[18:12] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** … Is that a face?

 **[18:13] SENT:** Yup. Good guess. 

**[18:13] SENT:** Wanna meet here at 17:00 then?

**[18:14] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** That works, yes. 

**[18:14] UNKNOWN NUMBER:** I will see you then. Good luck with the move.

**[18:14] SENT:** Thanks! (*≧ω≦*)

Hibiki closes his phone and can’t stop himself from grinning like a damned fool. His heart beats out of control and he feels like he’s removed from the party – like he’s sitting in a room in his own head and not filled with some of the most important people in his life. He feels like he’s floating. If Yamato won’t remember then he’ll charm him all over again – they’ll be friends in no time and then he can sort out the warm feeling in his stomach. He has all the time in the world now, doesn’t he? There’s no rush. He can fix this. He can make this work. 

“… Wait. How did he get my number?”


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which hibiki goes to dinner with yamato, mondays suck, yamato and hibiki go demon-hunting, and mondays really really fucking suck.
> 
> SORRY THIS TOOK MUCH LONGER.  
> between bar exam celebrations and a dying laptop i was super busy oops.  
> but this should be continuously updated throughout the week! so yeah!

He shouldn’t be nervous. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he spends more than five minutes trying to fix his unruly hair into a semi-acceptable shape. When the curls remain defiant, he sighs in defeat and accepts his fate – he’s destined to forever look like he just rolled out of bed. 

Even before he got this inconvenient crush on the General he had gone out with him to wander the streets and get food. This was not out of the realm of friendly gestures. So long as he just approached this evening with the same curious disposition he had during that chaotic week everything would be _fine_.

Everything was _not fine_.

Yamato showed up at precisely the stated time, wearing his coat and another one of those infurinatly fitting and smooth-looking shirts. It took every ounce of self-control Hibiki had not to gawk at his chest for a solid minute. Furthermore, Yamato seemed entirely unfazed and clueless, that little tuft of hair at the back of his head temporarily gelled into position. 

And that lead to the present: walking beside Yamato Hotsuin along the well-lit streets of the city at dinnertime. It was déjà vu at its finest, minus the death and destruction, though Hibiki’s wildly racing heart could result in the first casualty of the evening. 

“I didn’t take you as someone who liked street food,” Hibiki observes as they weave in and out of the crowds. As expected, Yamato looks uncomfortable with the close proximity of strangers but he doesn’t draw too much attention to it.

“I usually do not,” Yamato agrees and doesn’t take his eyes off the sidewalk ahead of them. “There are certain exceptions, however.”

“Mhm,” Hibiki says and can’t help the way his lips twitch into a bright smile. It fades when he notices that they are passing by the fifth vendor that clearly is selling the delicious balls of joy. “Um,” he begins but is silenced by a quick, sidelong glance from his superior.

“There is a restaurant nearby I found that serves it,” Yamato explains. 

It’s enough to make Hibiki uncharacteristically giggle and god does the way Yamato furrow his brows and wrinkle his nose make Hibiki want to take a picture of this moment. But he doesn’t and his laughter eventually dies off.

“I’ve never had takoyaki at a restaurant,” Hibiki says as if he feels a strong need to explain himself. “Actually, the number of restaurants I’ve been to is pretty slim. My parents weren’t big into that when I was young and now my Mom is usually working, so…” 

“Me either,” Yamato finally says as they stop at an intersection. A heaviness drops between them and Hibiki unintentionally holds his breath and counts to three. “My parents passed away when I was young. My caretakers and tutors did not bring me many places. Most of my meals are with the Chief and made by the private chefs stationed at the building.”

Information overload. Hibiki begins to parse that out. Some of it he knew but other bits are new and he can’t help but gawk. Yamato Hotsuin opening up about his childhood? About his meals with his sister? About JP’s in general? There’s a warm swelling Hibiki’s chest and he restlessly shuffles his feet as he waits for the crosswalk signal to change.

“Are you close?”

“What?”

“You and your si-- Uh. The Chief?” Hibiki still finds it odd to call her that in this world but it’ll grow on him.

“Close?” Yamato repeats it and apparently that’s the part he’s hung up on. “Biologically, yes. We are fraternal twins.”

Hibiki laughs again and the light flashes allowing them to cross. His step has a bounce and Yamato walks beside him, another rare look of bewilderment passing over the usually stoic General. When they’ve reached the other side, Hibiki turns to properly look at him and he smiles.

“I knew that. I meant, are you close emotionally? Do you talk to each other a lot?”

“Of course.” Where’s the but? “We have weekly briefings and usually discuss strategies at dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Hibiki says under his breath and he feels his sides hurting with how much he’s holding in his laughter. 

“What?” Yamato looks annoyed and he is lifting a single eyebrow. It’s kind of hot.

“Nevermind,” Hibiki chirps and he looks left and then right. “Which way next?”

“Ah.” Yamato loses that temporary irritation and cants his head to the left. It takes approximately two more seconds before the General begins to lead them down that crosswalk.

The restaurant isn’t far from there, just another measly two more blocks. Hibiki wonders if this is Yamato’s first time out of the office in months but he doesn’t pry. He’s already been given so much today as it is and despite being greedy as hell when it comes to certain Hotsuins he won’t press his luck. He doesn’t want to ruin this evening.

When they arrive to the restaurant Hibiki can’t contain the laughter any longer. Peels of laughs escape him and he leans against the doorframe for support. Yamato is staring at him as if he’s grown two heads and maybe he has. It’s absurd and Hibiki knows he’s attracting attention and it’s all sorts of awkward but he doesn’t care.

“General,” Hibiki says between bursts of laughs, “You brought me to a fancy restaurant that has takoyaki as one of the hundreds of options. They have tablecloths inside. And dessert carts!”

Yamato remains unfazed. “Yes. Is something wrong with that?”

“No?” Hibiki echoes as the laughter fades and he’s left with the stunning realization that Yamato must have researched restaurants. Either that, or Miyako dragged him here at some point but he can’t quite picture that. Which begs the question: why takoyaki? Why this restaurant? Why go to all this effort for a new recruit you’ve only just met? True, he had been working his ass off and Yamato probably still appreciated the determination and quality of his work. Even If the world was different Hibiki doubted that Yamato had bent away from his ideas of merit. But to invite someone to a place like this? It was out of his own price range and Yamato probably could deduce that and did that mean Yamato was planning on paying?

“Kuze.”

“Hm?”

Hibiki realizes that Yamato has probably been talking for a good minute and Hibiki has been stuck in his own thoughts on infinite loop. Accordingly, he smiles, a tad apologetic. “Sorry, I was zoning out for a second.”

Yamato makes a noise that sounds like a scoff as he opens the door. And just holds it. Hibiki gawks at Yamato’s hand on the door and then the doorknob and then back at Yamato. 

Wheels slowly creak into motion and he hurries inside, his cheeks burning hot. Wow, way to go, kid, he tells himself with as much self-hatred as he possibly can.

* * * 

Dinner is unexpectedly uneventful. They order far too many orders of takoyaki and Hibiki manages to convince his boss that they should try out one of the noodle dishes. With disdain, Yamato agrees and looks uncomfortable until the food arrives. When it does, Hibiki wastes no time in shoving it closer to Yamato and poking at it encouragingly with his chopsticks. Yamato just does that half-scoff thing again and takes a bite. He’s pointedly looking away but the look of delicate that crosses his features after he tries it is unmistakable. Hibiki’s stomach does somersaults.

“It’s… salty,” Yamato observes and stares down at his chopsticks. “But not overly so.”

Yamato talking about food shouldn’t be this attractive, this endearing, but Hibiki feels his hands fidgeting in his lap and the urge to start ripping a napkin in sexual frustration. He’s too old to be acting like a prepubescent boy. 

“So you like it?” Hibiki asks helpfully. 

“I do,” Yamato says with the weightiness of decision. “Thank you for showing me this, Kuze.”

Hibiki feels his heart soar and he inwardly smacks himself upside the head. Lovesick. He’s dumb and lovesick and if his friends were here they’d be laughing their asses off. And rightfully so. 

Hibiki returns to dinner with a thinly-veiled smile and wishes for this moment to never end.

* * * 

Monday morning brings with it the painful reminder that he’s an adult. The train is slow that morning and he’s almost late. He manages to spill his coffee on himself on the way into JP’s and nearly trips walking into his office. It’s such a contrast to the fun-filled weekend of friends and casually flirting with Yamtao. Is this what being an adult is? Living for the weekend? Hibiki thinks it might be and he collapses into his desk chair. It’s nowhere near as comfortable as he’d like it be, but it’ll have to do. Happy one week anniversary, he tells himself. Ugh.

There’s a lot of papers stacked on his inbox at the corner of his desk. Hibiki regards them with a sour expression and wonders if he sets them on fire if he’ll be excused from doing them. The idea of passing that by Yamato appears and then quickly vanishes. Yamato would kill him, memories or no memories.

So he just begins idly spinning a pencil around between his fingers. He could be doing work and making a valiant head start into this stack of paper but he’s not. He can’t work up the courage to begin. Instead, he’s contemplating updating his social media or going for a walk or maybe ordering some new clothes because he’s a working professional now! But he decides against that because his hoodie is really all he needs and other clothes are just superficial necessities. 

After ten minutes of wasting time, Hibiki finally logs into his work computer and reads over the updates. Nothing too exciting. Great. Just great.

Happy fucking Monday.

* * * 

The second half of Monday is unexpectedly chaotic. Somehow, Hibiki hadn’t gotten the memo that he and Yamato were heading out for fieldwork after lunch. It’s a glimmer of hope for an otherwise dismal and paper-cut riddled day. His spirits remain high until they’re in the black JP’s car and heading off to another _fucking mountain_.

“I’m starting to think Seals are only on mountains,” Hibiki whines even though he’s fully aware that what he’s saying is untrue. But he doesn’t care. He feels childish and he’s still sore from moving this weekend. 

“You forgot to dress for the weather again, didn’t you?” Yamato says blithely without looking up from his phone. 

“Nooo,” Hibiki drawls and reflexively hugs his arms tight to his chest. “I’ve actually decided to embrace the cold and become a Jack Frost. It was good knowing you, General.”

“Ugh,” Yamato says with a flick of his tongue against his bottom lip. “Those are annoying. Pick something else.”

“They’re annoying!?” Hibiki gasps and he meets the eyes of the driver in the mirror unabashedly. “They’re adorable and full of joy. You’re just allergic to fun.”

“I’m allergic to idiocy,” Yamato corrects and my god he is smiling teasingly at his phone, isn’t he?

“That’s – Oh. That’s a joke, isn’t it?” Hibiki asks and his wild shrieking has since ceased. He gets lost staring at how perfect Yamato’s smile is and he definitely forgets to look away when Yamato raises his eyes from the screen.

“Perhaps,” he says and snaps his phone shut. “So pick something else.”

The affirmation that Yamato doesn’t think he’s a moron fills him with a stupid amount of satisfaction. “Wendigo?”

“You’re doing it on purpose now,” Yamato responds curtly and leans further back against the backseat, adjusting to get more comfortable so that his torso is angled closer to Hibiki. Apparently he’s managed to gain his full attention. Neat.

“Doing what on purpose?”

“…clever.” Yamato nearly chuckles and then turns serious once more, “This is the last time I allow you to borrow my gloves to preserve your extremities. Next time, you will learn your lesson the hard way.”

“By losing a finger?” Hibiki quips just as Yamato unceremoniously removes his gloves and sets them on the middle seat between them. It’s better than having them thrown in his face and Hibiki will count that as definite progress.

* * * 

“You didn’t tell me we weren’t checking up on a Seal.”

“We are.”

“The Seal is broken.”

“Yes. Which qualifies as checking up on it, as you’ve said.”

“We’re demon-hunting, not checking a Seal!”

Yamato regards Hibiki with the least impressed stare. Hibiki inwardly recoils but only ends up pouting. It’s not like he’s afraid of tracking down a demon and summoning, but he’s a bit out of practice. Training with Yamato and Makoto had been one thing, but a powerful demon that wrestled out of its Seal? Completely different. There were numerous times where he thought he was a goner in the previous worlds because of powerful demons like these. If he had known, he’d have at least packed a juice box.

“Demon-hunting,” Yamato repeats, trying out the phrase. “I suppose that is an adequate description.” He glances back down at his phone as a wild wind rushes past them, blowing his hair in every direction. “We’re looking for Asura.”

So the demon associated with animalistic urges like violence? Cool. “That sounds … dangerous.”

“All demons are dangerous, Kuze,” Yamato murmurs. “Some are just less trash than others.”

Hibiki snorts. “You just called demons trash,” he says and hides the smile behind his hand – garbed in Yamato’s glove. 

“This one is particularly violent,” Yamato says and regards Hibiki with a _stern_ look. “Prepare now. It is likely that Asura is aware of our presence and is already planning to ambush us.”

“Ambush,” Hibiki repeats and it almost sounds like a squeak. Quickly, he buries his nose into his phone and the demon summoning app. He isn’t exactly sure what weaknesses Asura has but he decides to go for a well-rounded team – nothing favoring magic or physical. Demons with little to no weaknesses and average stats. That was the safest course of action, especially if the demon was planning on blind-sliding them. “Ready.”

“All right.” Yamato stuffs his hands – which are already red from the cold, Hibiki notes with a tiny frown – and begins to head down the dirt path leading further into the wooded mountainside.

* * * 

“How many arms does this thing have?!”

Hibiki is unceremoniously sent flying and slams into a nearby tree. His body aches and his eyes are already heavy. As expected, Asura took the first opportunity to ambush them when they reached a particularly thick cluster of trees. Hibiki had barely had enough time to summon his demons before they were attacked. Healing spells helped and Yamato’s Cerbersus was quick to latch its teeth into one of the many arms of the deity but it did not seem to be doig much damage.

And now Hibiki was on his ass at the base of a tree, probably with a bruised rib or two. One of his demons had already been destroyed and the other was waiting on standy a few feet away. 

Hibiki’s fingers danced wildly along his phone, casting a Diarama on himself. It dulled the ache but he doubted it did all that much. Slamming into a tree that fast and that angle probably did more damage than a simple spell could fix.

“Kuze!”

Yamato’s shout sounded less upset and more concerned. The General was already sending Cerbersus back at Asura, the beast clawing and biting at Asura’s ankles since it was imposible to topple it over.

“I’m fine, just … a little flesh wound,” Hibiki calls over the roar of battle. With difficulty, he pushes himself up and to his feet. He feels dizzy and his legs feel like jello. 

He’s really, really out of shape, isn’t he?

Hibiki is about to summon a new demon to join the grueling battle but he’s blind-sided by a triple attack. The edge of swords drag against his front and cut through fabric. He isn’t sure if they pierce his skin but it’s stinging so it’s likely. That’s all it takes for his knees to give out, his legs to crumble, and for him to fall back to the ground, the brunt of the attack now coming at his exposed back.

Hibiki tries to use the app, tries to yell out a command, do _anything_ , but apparently in this world he isn’t as fast, isn’t as strong. In this world, the demon Asura has him beat and he’s going to be cut up into little pieces if this continues. 

The world begins to blur, big splotches of black narrowing his vision. He thinks this is what it feels like to faint and he howls in pain as the edge of a blade digs into his shoulder. “ _Shit_!” he hears himself growl as he reaches to cover the wound, to stop it from bleeding and stinging, but he feels a foot jam into his gut and send him sprawling on his back on the cold hard ground.

Is this how he dies? How lame. To be defeated by a stupid demon while Yamato watches in probably the most disappointed fashion. This sucks. This absolutely sucks.

The world begins to fade even more and Hibiki is coughing and yelling all at once. It hurts. It hurts so much and he can barely think or move a muscle.

He wants to apologize for being so weak. He wants to apologize that he’s a liability and that he may or may not be perishing at the many hands of Asura. There’s a lot of things Hibiki wants but all he does is lay there uselessly, flitting in and out of consciousness.

“ _Hibiki!_ ”

It’s the last thing he hears before the cold darkness engulfs him.

* * * 

There’s a beeping. It’s rhythmic and it both hurts his ears as much as it soothes him. His body aches and he can’t quite open his eyes. Which is fine, he thinks, because he’s so, so tired and he just wants to sleep.

 _Was_ he asleep? He’d like to go back to that now, thank you very much. Sleep is great for blocking out pain.

“It’s three in the morning,” Hibiki hears a voice – warm, soft, gentle, is that Otome?

There’s rustling and Hibiki hears a murmur over the incessant beeping of the machine.

“General, go home. I’ll send you an update the moment I have one,” the feminine voice says again, tired and strained and losing its levity.

“No.”

Hibiki loses consciousness again. The darkness is just so inviting.

* * * 

This time when he wakes up, he can actually open his eyes. Every single limb aches and stings in all sorts of new ways and Hibiki has painful flashbacks to the previous worlds. With as much effort as he can muster, he opens his eyes and sits up. The world is bright whites and beeping and he regrets it.

“Ow,” he groans as he sits up in the hospital bed. He’s connected to _so_ many wires and he thinks if he stirs too much he’s going to accidentally unplug something. Which is fine, because not moving sounds preferable to the alternative.

His blurry vision begins to focus. At his bedside is a rare right. Slumped into a chair that’s far too small is one General Hotsuin. His hair is an absolute mess and his face is still covered with dirt and dried flecks of blood. His eyes, shut, are tightly drawn together and there’s a cut that looks like it came pretty close to blinding him. He’s asleep, Hibiki realizes, and he’s probably having a nightmare given the ugly expression on his face and the slight twitching of his torso.

He’s never actually seen Yamato sleeping. He hadn’t wanted to see it like this, not at all.

“You’re awake. Good,” Otome says in a warm whisper from his left side. Hibiki turns to her, meeting a maternal frown. “You had us all worried sick.”

“Sorry,” Hibiki whispers back and bites back a cough. It feels difficult to speak and there’s smoke or something in his lungs because damn are they burning. “How’s…?”

“He’s fine. I was going to treat his wounds but he was too stubborn,” Otome scolds and flicks her gaze to the slumbering Yamato. 

“Has he…”

“You’ve slept for thirteen hours. He’s been here the whole time.”

Hibiki’s stomach drops and he isn’t sure if it’s pain or guilt or something else entirely that’s filling him. So he just looks away and down towards his hands. Good, he still has two hands, that’s a relief. With how wildly Asura had been coming at him, he wouldn’t be surprised if he lost a limb. 

“Go back to sleep,” Otome urges. “Give your body some more rest. We’ll run a few tests in the morning and see about casting a few more spells.”

“Okay,” Hibiki says albeit hesitantly. His gaze wanders from his bandaged hands and over to Yamato. who is still restlessly sleeping. “Wake me when he’s up?”

Otome doesn’t answer at first. Her hands are clutching her clipboard tightly and she seems lost in thought. Finally, she nods and passes a suspicious look between the pair of them. 

“Get some sleep.”

Hibiki drops his head back down to the pillow and closes his eyes. His first week on the job and he’s already tattered in a hospital bed. Great. Maybe he isn’t cut out for this job after all. Maybe he’s just destined to be a salaryman. Still … Still his mind wanders to the General at his bedside. Had he really been here the entire time? Had he really not left his beside? Had he really refused the treatment of his own injuries?

 _You idiot_ , Hibiki thinks as he drifts back into sleep, _Don’t waste your own potential on me. That doesn’t sound like you at all_.

But is it so different? Is it so different from the Yamato that wrote himself out of existence in order to fix Hibiki’s data and return him to the world? Is it so different than the Yamato who would meet his gaze in battle and tell him that seeing Hibiki fighting valiantly for a new world inspired him? That Hibiki was a source of inspiration and that Yamato enjoyed sighting by his side? The same Yamato who offered to travel the world with him?

His sworn friend.

As sleep finally reclaims him, his hand reaches out into the darkness. On blind faith – acting on the invisible bond of fate between them, knowing that Yamato is there in that darkness – Hibiki’s fingers find Yamato’s, very loosely threading in the gaps between his. And he holds on. For dear life he holds on and doesn’t let go. Because when you find something worth fighting for, you never ever let it go. Not even for a second.


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which miyako makes fun of hibiki, hibiki shares embarrassing news with daichi, daichi and joe hang out at hibiki's place, and yamato proposes. sort of. 
> 
> i've beaten my back-up laptop into submission so i can continue writing this.  
> i'm aiming to have this finished before i start work on the 23rd? we'll see how that goes.  
> the second arc of the story is going to start in a couple of chapters.  
> so yeah.  
> that's all i've got.  
> my thirst for yamahibs knows no bounds?   
> thanks so much for your thoughts and continued readership!!! it means the world to me.

“I thought I had ordered you to return home for the week for bedrest.”

Hibiki stands awkwardly in the threshold of Miyako’s office. Around his right arm is a sling, evidence of what had transpired the day prior. His gaze flicks away from hers – it’s too intense, too strong, too much like _his_. Restlessly, he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“And if I said I wanted to work? And that I’ll just do deskwork here?”

“I would have to decline,” Miyako sighs, leaning her cheek against the back of her hand. “Rest will do you well, Hibiki.”

“I know,” Hibiki murmurs, his good hand reaching up to play with the front of his bangs. “But what if I said I wanted to work because I wanted to see your brother?”

Miyako blinks, her eyebrows lifting. There’s a long pause as she shifts in her seat, swinging one leg over the other, before she gestures off to the couch in the corner – and there is Io. Just sitting there with a cup of tea, nervously looking at her phone, face a scorching red.

“Oh my god, I had no idea you were here,” Hibiki sputters, his eyes widening and heart pounding fiercely. Leave it to him to not fully investigate his surroundings before he say something completely embarrassing. He really was losing his touch. “N-not like it’s a secret?! Or anything? But I wouldn’t have just intruded? I’m so sorry?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine!” Io says hurriedly, looking up and almost spilling her cup of tea in the process. 

Miyako seems endlessly amused. “You would risk your own healing for my brother?”

“Er,” Hibiki murmurs, suddenly feeling very much as if he were under a blistering spotlight. Stage-fright, much? “Can I plead the fifth on that one?”

“We aren’t in America, Hibiki,” Miyako drawls and she just shakes her head, a tiny smile materializing on her face. “If you are pining that much over my younger brother, then you may continue working so long as you agree not to return to fieldwork for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!”

“How else will I convince my brother to allow you to remain at work?” Miyako’s eyes fall shut. “He’s already been in here twice requesting that you take a leave of absence and claiming fault for what happened.”

“He what.” There’s a distinct record scratch somewhere. 

“If that is all, then you are excused, Hibiki.”

His heart pounding, he turns quickly on his heel. He lingers for a second, trying to calm down and not die from the bubbling laughter sounding from Io and Miyako. It’s nice to hear them both laugh, for them both to be happy, but right now he feels like he just dug his own grave of embarrassment. Might as well slam a tombstone with “Cause of Death: Yamato Hotsuin” on it. 

Just as he’s about to head back out the door, Yamato appears in front of him, blocking the way. The demon gods truly have it out for him today, don’t they?

“Ya- General!” Hibiki squeaks, nearly jumping out of his skin. If he’s ever been close to a heart attack, this would be the moment. Stars have nothing on this man. “How… much of that did you just hear?”

“Hear what?” Yamato asks and it’s said with such a neutral expression that there’s no possible way he heard anything.

Relief courses through Hibiki for a few seconds before panic takes its place, icy and hot all at once. _Yamato_ took responsibility for the incident. _Yamato_ begged his sister to give Hibiki time off. _Yamato_ remained at his bedside while he was sick. And what did Hibiki do? He held Yamato’s hand as he slept. A healthy red paints itself across Hibiki’s face and he abruptly sidesteps in order to get around Yamato who is doing his best to occupy most of the door.

“I – have to go now. Sir!” 

And with that he ducks out, heading down the hall in a mad rush of limbs and sputters.

 **SENT:** Oh my god Yamato almost just heard me confessing my love for him to his sister. JFC can today get any worse?! Seriously?

 **DAICHI:** Whoa, whoa, whoa! 

**DAICHI:** Back up. Back it the hell up.

 **DAICHI:** You didn’t tell me you were in LOVE with him?

 **SENT:** Oops? Surprise?

 **DAICHI:** And you told the Chief? Are you insane, man?!

 **SENT:** I have bruised ribs, a sling, and a wounded heart, cut me some slack. 

**DAICHI:** … Ouch. Sorry, man. I can come over tonight with some takeout and we can hang?

 **SENT:** Please please please.

 **DAICHI:** All right! I’ll be over later. 

**DAICHI:** … oh and Joe just said he wants to come? I guess? Is that okay or should I make up some awesome excuse?

 **SENT:** You’re with Joe right now? Lol 

**DAICHI:** Yeah he’s helping me study.

 **DAICHI:** Wait what’s funny about that?

 **DAICHI:** Hibiki?

 **DAICHI:** Dude is that a yes or a no? 

**SENT:** Bring him. I need some comedic relief tonight.

Hibiki smiles down at his phone, unable to stifle the small surge of giggles that ripple through him. Even if his love life is a mess and his body is in shambles, he still has the absolute best friend in the world. A friend who is oblivious to matters of the heart, apparently, but a true friend through and through. 

Hibiki is so engulfed in his phone that he fails to notice that Yamato is standing a few feet away from him, seemingly waiting to catch his attention. … And when he does, when blue meets grey, Hibiki almost drops his phone.

“S-sir?” Hibiki stammers and he shoves his phone in his jacket. Texting on the job, good job. Way to continuously impress your boss.

“…The Chief said you wanted to remain in the office,” Yamato says, slowly, unfazed by Hibiki’s temporary fluster.

“Er, yeah. Idle minds and all that nonsense. That’s okay, right? I can still write and type with my good hand, promise.” Hibki offers a weak smile but finds himself ducking his head low afterward. There’s shame clinging to him like a blanket and his stomach is doing all sorts of flip flops.

“…I have no say in the matter, but don’t overexert yourself.”

Yamato looks exceptionally awkward all of a sudden, his gaze everywhere but Hibiki’s face. The General makes a show of nodding before he heads off in the direction of his office. His footsteps echo in the empty hall. Hibiki watches him leave, allowing their brief encounter to keep replaying in his head. Was Yamato as awkward about things as him now, too? Had he overstepped some boundary? Or was Yamato simply embarrassed about walking in on a “tea date” between his sister and Io? 

Too many questions. He needed to just engulf himself in work and wait for the end of the day.

* * * 

Daichi must have given Joe a synopsis of Hibiki’s day because by the time he returns to his apartment, Joe and Daichi are standing in the hallway with bags of takeout and cans of beer. Hibiki wonders just how much trouble Joe would get into if it was found out he was continuously supplying minors with alcohol, but Hibiki can’t find it in his heart to care. After all, they were the heroes that saved the world and rebuilt it. A few beers wouldn’t hurt anyone. Hell, they deserved it at this point.

Hibiki lets them in and shrugs off his coat. It goes up on the rack by his door and he stretches his arms above his head. As much as he adores the aesthetic of the jacket it’s frustratingly confining. 

“We got noodles for days,” Joe announces as he drops the bags onto the kitchen counter with a loud _thump_. Daichi is already fishing out the plastic silverware and plates and tossing his best friend an apologetic wince. It’s fine, Hibiki wants to tell him, he never minds Joe’s company unlike a lot of the team.

“No offense, man,” Daichi begins as he drags the utensils over to the small coffee table and couch that are now adorning Hibiki’s living room, “but you look like grade A shit. What happened?”

“We were checking on a seal,” Hibiki explains as he at least tries to be useful with his singular working arm. He takes a few containers of noodles from Joe and brings them into the living room, mindful not to tip them so much as to spill their delicious oily contents.

“A seal?” Daichi frowns. “And that happened? Was it broken or something?”

“Bingo.” Hibiki takes a seat on the couch and goes utterly boneless. “I thought we were trying to make a world free of demons.”

“Yeah…” Daichi’s frown only grows and his brows knit together. “So much for that, huh? Do we even know if that whole Authority thing worked? Ya know, the whole sharing the power with everyone thing?”

“Probably.” Hibiki rests his head back against the couch and watches Joe, upside down, fiddle around in the kitchen. “If it didn’t, I think we’d know by now.”

“Yeah.” Daichi sounds frustrated and almost dumps the noodles on the floor when he opens the container. 

“I’m not entirely surprised,” Hibiki murmurs as he drags a hand back through his messy hair, wincing as his index finger gets stuck on a tangle. “There’s never going to be a world that’s truly peaceful.”

“Eh? C’mon man, that’s not like you at all.”

“No, I mean, yeah we can be safe from invaders, but… isn’t that human nature? To constantly be sparring off?” Hibiki is struggling for the right words and he closes his eyes, imagining reaching out into the abyss, the darkness, to grasp at them. “What I mean is there’s always light and dark. You can’t have one without the other. It doesn’t make sense. So if this is the darkness we have – the occasional broken seal and broken arm, then I’ll take that world any day.”

“Dude,” Daichi begins and then unceremoniously shoves a plate full of food straight into Hibiki’s lap. “That was deep. Eat your god damn noodles.”

“Hell yeah!” Joe shouts from the kitchen as he comes trampsing into the room with the remainder of the food. He sets out the appetizers and sauces and takes residency on the couch beside Daichi on the far end. It’s a tight fit for sure.

After a few minutes of wordless consumption, Joe is the first to break the silence. The man dangles his chopsticks precariously between his fingers and Hibiki can tell that Daichi is using every single ounce of self-restraint not to yell at him for it because _dude, the rug is new!_

“You shoulda invited Old Yamsy over. It would have been like old times!”

“You told him,” is what Hibiki says, head whipping around to the side so fast that he almost whacks Daichi’s head with his own.

“H-hey!” Daichi nearly screeches. “He was creeping on my phone it’s not my fault?! Next time let me know before you drop the l-bomb? I can tell you if it’s safe?!”

“Heh,” is all Joe says, setting his food down on the coffee table. His elbows take up residency on his knees and he watches Hibiki over the tops of his glasses. There’s a devious glint to the older man’s eyes. “Should I have waited till we were a beer in to ask? Man, timing is just not my thing.”

“You are the absolute worst,” groans Daichi.

“I don’t care if you know, Joe,” Hibiki explains, albeit his face turning the darkest of reds. “It’s not like it changes anything.”

“Huh?”

“Yamato doesn’t have his memories of the previous worlds. He thinks he grew up with Miyako and that she’s the rightful Chief. He doesn’t remember me or anyone else beyond what his new memories dictate. He just thinks I’m his catastrophe of a new agent that needs to be babysat and take time off work.” Hibiki finds his words growing bitter and heavy towards the end of his impromptu tirade. But he doesn’t stop, “And that’s fine. This world can’t be perfect and I’m sure if he remembered he and Miyako would be vying for Chief and upsetting their Clan or whatever. It’d be counterproductive to protecting the world, yada yada. I just … It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s the only person that doesn’t get to remember.”

The room falls silent. The silence is heavy like a blanket and for once even Joe is speechless. Daichi looks uncomfortable and is fidgeting, refusing to make eye contact with his friend. Hibki realizes his blunder and audibly groans, setting his food down on the table in order to cover his face with his good hand. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump all that on –”

“Yup. Sounds like love,” Joe says with a surprising amount of seriousness. There’s a longing look in his eyes and he glances away, down at his laced hands. “Can’t say I haven’t been there. The world takes what it wants without your permission. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rally and try and fight it, though. Good for you, Hibiki.”

Daichi fidgets again. It’s been a difficult subject to approach – that Joe’s girlfriend still got sick and passed away in this world, even with his presence. Even with his support. It was terribly unfair and Joe should have been able to whisk her off into the sunset. They were in love and young and so stupidly happy. But the world is cruel and not even a perfect world is capable of eradicating diseases.

“Sorry,” Hibiki says, softer. “I didn’t … think.” That he was being unfair, that Joe had it much worse, to have the person he loved gone forever without a chance of starting anew.

“Eh? That wasn’t the point of that speech.” Joe reaches behind Daichi and lightly smacks Hibiki upside the head.

“Dude!” Daichi finally comes back to reality and uses his body as a shield. “He just got back from the infirmary! Can you not send him back there?”

“Yeah, I could have a concussion,” Hibiki jokes in utter deadpan. He meets Joe’s amused stare and the pair of them break into a fit of laughter.

Daichi just wants to give up.

“Anyway, last words on this and I promise we can return to Noodle Heaven,” Joe says as he adjusts his glasses – Hibiki thinks it’s some sort of meaningful gesture. “If you love something, go for it. Never give up. What’s anything worth without a little fight. If it was easy, that wouldn’t fit you or the Grumpy General. Not your style. Even if he’s forgotten, you can make him remember. At least, make him remember why you were his favorite and he never shut up about you.”

“That’s true,” Daichi says and it sounds so reluctant. “Joe’s right. We only knew him for a week. Two if you count that third world? Time is weird. But either way, you must have made some crazy impression for him to have joined our side like that.”

A crazy impression like destroying demons and leading a gang of civilians with the grace of a General? “Times were different then. But uh, thanks guys. I appreciate it.”

“Ehhhh, why don’t we ask our favorite soft girl for advice?”

“Who?” Daichi wrinkles his brows and then – “What did you just call Io?”

“She already knows,” Hibiki interrupts with a groan and his face returns to its hiding place behind his now sweating palm. This couch is just riddled with despair. “She was in the Chief’s office when I went to talk to her about not taking vacation. I kind of told her that I wanted to spend time with Yamato even if it meant paperwork.”

“That’s… really gay,” Daichi snorts under his breath much to Hibiki’s chagrin. “Dude you have it so bad. Who even _are_ you?”

Joe remains silent, eyes twinkling as he watches the ragtag duo.

“I don’t know,” Hibiki admits and spreads his fingers in order to peeks through them. “I never really liked anyone before. Not like this? I didn’t want to acknowledge it in school because of what happened in middle school.”

“Eh?”

“Some assholes were bullying him so I beat the crap out of them,” Daichi explains. “Kids are assholes. So I totally get that. But like …” Daichi is hesitant. It doesn’t take a genius to know what question he wants to ask but is floundering with. It’s sensitive and personal and maybe not the best to pry.

“I always knew. Sort of? I don’t know. I just was too focused on school and keeping out of trouble because of my Mom,” Hibiki says and he finally drops his hand to his lap. Usually bright and mischievous azure eyes are bogged down with nostalgia. “There wasn’t a reason to mention it before. Not until it became something.”

“Makes sense,” Joe says and rubs the back of his neck. “No need to poke a bear if you don’t have a reason.”

“The hell is that saying?” Daichi asks incredulously. “It’s fine, man. We’re here for you. I dunno what about him you _like_ but you two kind of…” Again, he grasps for words. “Sort of work? Like, I don’t think it was a secret he liked you?”

“I was his first friend,” Hibiki clarifies, throat going dry. “And yeah he got a little weird and possessive in that first world, but I think he wanted to make sure I stayed safe in order to help save the world. My potential shouldn’t be wasted and all of that.”

“Could be.” Daichi makes a weird sweeping gesture with his hands. “But he erased himself out of existence to bring you back. Like dude, that’s some next level stuff?”

“The second world failed, right? He was just trying to do the right thing.”

“How’d he even find your data in that thing? Isn’t that kind of… I dunno?”

“Lucky guess? Dragon Stream?”

“He’s asked you out for dinner,” Daichi argues and just crosses his arms to his chest, clearly unimpressed.

“Can we please just finish dinner before it gets cold? Please?” Hibiki implores and reclaims his chopsticks. It’s fairly obvious that the topic, while extremely relevant, still isn’t sitting well with him. All this uncertainty, this nostalgia, it’s unsettling. Add that to the lingering pain of his arm and bruised ribs and he’s just not in the best of moods. Even with the great company he’s still worse for wear. 

“Yeah, man. Of course.”

 _How many excuses are you going to make for how Yamato treated you, you idiot? Are you too afraid of admitting that maybe he used to like you and that’s gone now?_ Hibiki berates himself, his stomach knotting in new and unimaginable ways. _There’s no way to recreate what happen. There’s no way to make him like you again. Just give it up and move on. You’re only hurting yourself and annoying the hell out of all your friends._

* * * 

Hibiki finds himself in Yamato’s office the next morning with his laptop and a stack of papers neatly tucked under his arm. Yamato is already there – when does he even wake up? – and he busily typing away. It’s likely a report regarding what happened the other day and the guilt claws at Hibiki anew. He still feels like the world’s biggest idiot, JP’s largest liability, and he fears that won’t go away any time soon. 

“Kuze?”

Yamato glances up from the screen, the artificial light showing all sorts of new hues in his eyes. It’s exceptionally pretty – like a snowflake – and Hibiki stares for a moment too long. With the stirrings of a blush, he takes a seat at the chair in front of Yamato’s desk and gently sets down his laptop before shuffling the papers to his lap.

“I finished a few things,” Hibiki explains and ignores the way a lump is growing in his throat. Heart, please cease. “So I wanted to run them by you to see if you wanted to change anything?”

“Ah.” Yamato nods and his hands lace under his chin, gaze intently and solely on Hibiki. “What did I tell you about overexerting yourself?”

“It was just typing,” Hibiki says defensively, the color darkening, “and I was bored this morning so I got in early? It’s no big deal. I’m a super human, after all.”

Yamato doesn’t find the joke funny. Instead, there’s a slight narrowing of his eyes as he looks at Hibiki over the bridge of his nose. “A super human with very real weaknesses.”

Hibiki lowers his gaze, shame prickling at the back of his neck. “Right. I’m – sorry about that, again. I wasn’t prepared enough. I just thought that –”

“Thought?”

 _Thought that fighting two Administrators and kicking mega ass would prepare me for a singular demon? Yeah, can’t say that, idiot. Think, think, think. Make a joke? Say something dumb?_ Hibiki flips over a piece of paper in his lap. “That we had done enough training to take it on.”

Yamato doesn’t seem satisfied by the answer but he doesn’t harp on it. Instead, the General closes his eyes, a puff of air escaping him through his nose. “You were reckless, yes,” it sounds harsh and Hibiki wants to curl in on himself, “…But I was as well. It was far too early to take you on a dangerous mission such as that. My judgment was clouded.”

“Clouded…” Hibiki echoes and winces when he realizes it came out aloud.

“It was unprofessional of a man in my position,” Yamato begins, eyes slowly cracking open, “To mix business with pleasure.”

Hibiki nearly chokes on his own spit. He doesn’t dare to speak.

“I have enjoyed spending time with you, Kuze. Your companionship is an asset, both on the field and off it. I did not take into account your – experience.”

The choice of words sounds suspicious but Hibiki doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, he’s narrowly focused on the fact that Yamato enjoys spending time together. Further, that he just called his companionship an _asset_. Hibiki’s heart soars and he can’t help himself.

“It’s okay, I think, for us to be friends,” Hibiki blurts out helpfully, hopefully, “In fact, it’s probably better that way. You know, trust your partner and all that.”

Partner. Hibiki Kuze just used the word partner platonically and he wants to die.

“Friends,” Yamato repeats, the word sounding strange on his lips. “…I see.” The General looks off to the side, eyes unreadable and expression even more so. Yamato remains eerily silent for far too long and in that time Hibiki’s heart skips several beats. There’s a nausea accompanying adrenaline absolutely _gushing_ through him and he swears if his palm gets sweaty and he ruins this report because of it he’s just going to rage-quit life.

“…I mean, you’re the boss so it’s your call,” Hibiki quickly adds in, the weightiness of the topic barring down on him. 

“I think I would like that,” Yamato finally decides, as he’s trying a new dish for the first time and has finally decided that the palette suits him. He finally looks back towards Hibiki and his fierce gaze arrests Hibiki. Hibiki can’t possibly look away even if he wanted to. 

Hibiki resists the urge to fist-bump the air. Instead, he smiles and it’s far too bright to be platonic but he just doesn’t care. “Yeah. Sworn friends it is!”

Yamato blinks, quizzical at best, and there’s a tilt of his head. Hair falls in his face, blocking half his expression, and Hibiki swears in that moment it’s the same way he looked at him when they were reunited in the Stratum. He swears that’s the look Yamato reserves for when he’s said something unexpectedly poignant. Hibiki can’t breathe and he fights off the urge to let his smile grow even wider. 

_I’m still valuable to him_ , Hibiki reminds himself with all the joy in the world. _He still thinks I’m smart and insightful and whatever else it was. This can work. We can be friends again. That’s…_

“My friend,” Yamato repeats and there’s a twinkle in his eyes and it’s so disarming, “Allow me the privilege, then, of your company later today. There is a place I would like to go.”

Is this a date? Or is this just another platonic adventure? Either way, Hibiki nods without giving it too much thought. “Sure. But I thought you said not to overexert myself,” he teases and totally misses his own innuendo. When it becomes apparent, he bites the inside of his cheek. Damn it, Kuze.

“I did, yes,” Yamato frowns and he looks as if he’s about to rescind the offer.

“But! But I’ll be careful and I’ll come with you wherever it is.” Hibiki smiles, softer.

“I assure you it is not dangerous,” Yamato reassures and that little frown is gone, his expression smoothed back into something calm and passive.

“Okay. Uhm. Well. Just knock on my door when you’re ready to go.” There’s a constant thrumming of his heart that’s making it difficult to sit still. He just wants to celebrate, just wants to thank every single star (hah!) that he’s managed to befriend Yamato a second time.

“All right.”

And they begin their daily reading of the reports and action items, a lightness to the air that hadn’t been there prior. The end of the day can’t come soon enough. Hibiki is absolutely _ectastic_ and he wonders if this is all about to explode in his face. Even so, he can’t seem to _care_ , because the person he’s so connected to, so childishly smitten with, is right here, right now, and wants to be his friend. 

And that’s enough for now, he tells himself. He’ll get to know Yamato, truly fall in love, and everything will be okay. He just can’t screw this up. He _won’t_ screw this up. Boss be damned. He was going to court Yamato Hotsuin with as much grace as a one-armed person could.


	7. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end of the first act!!!  
> and you may be wondering whoa what's gonna happen next?  
> well, you'll see.  
> you shall see indeed.
> 
> i'm posting this early because i won't be around this weekend because of family reasons.  
> so have this exceptionally quick update.  
> as i continue to sob into my coffee at the coffeeshop.

Of all the places Hibiki suspected Yamato would want to go, the opera house never even made the list. Thankfully, the show that evening was a pianist and not a choir of screaming men and women. Hibiki knows he likes Yamato _a lot_ but he thinks the fat lady singing would be the line. There’s just some levels you can’t sink to, no matter how charmingly handsome they are.

Hibiki feels entirely underdressed for this particular event. There are members of high society here, dressed to the nines and flitting back and forth between groups. Women in heels and fancy dresses and men in suits that are probably worth Hibiki’s yearly income. There are glasses of champagne and loud chatter about things Hibiki can’t even begin to understand. He supposes he should have paid more attention in Music Theory.

He doesn’t fit in here, wearing his JP’s coat which looks dashing but his bunny ears are sticking out and he’s wearing scuffed shoes and he just doesn’t know what to say or do. Yamato is at his side, pulling up tickets or _something_ on his phone. 

And honestly? Hibiki hadn’t pegged Yamato as the type to even have hobbies. The Yamato he knew from the first few worlds had been a workaholic who never roamed the streets. He wouldn’t be surprised if Yamato read old reports as bedtime stories. 

But here? In this world? Yamato seems quietly delighted by the prospect of a recital. Hibiki finds it absolutely _fascinating_ and it’s so cliché, isn’t it? That someone as dignified and powerful as Yamato Hotsuin has a thing for the piano. 

Yamato looks up from his phone and his usually cold eyes warm and pensive. It’s cute and Hibiki wants to take a picture of it and keep it in his wallet forever. Damn he’s screwed.

“Do you know any of his works?”

“Whose works?” Hibiki asks because he honestly has zero idea who they are here to listen to, let alone what _pieces_ he’s composed. Hibiki tosses the banner a sidelong glance and repeats the piantist’s name.

Yamato makes an amused noise through his nose. “Yes, that is the pianist. But I was referring to the works he’ll be performing this evening. Chopin.”

“Chopin,” Hibiki repeats and rolls the word around on his tongue. “I think I’ve heard the name before. Is that the deaf one? Or the one that cut off his own ear?”

Yamato’s face scrunches up and he looks torn between disgust and laughter. He doesn’t dignify Hibiki without an explanation save for, “No, Hibiki.”

Eventually, Yamato guides them into the large concert hall. The walls are adorned with murals and engravings and molding and it’s beautiful. It’s absolutely beautiful and Hibiki finds himself stopping mid-step to gawk. He’s never been a lover of fine arts but he thinks if this is what the real deal is then maybe he’s been missing out his whole life.

Yamato seems to notice that Hibiki isn’t at his side after he passes a few more rows of seats. The General turns around and glances back at him and Hibiki can’t help the way his heart soars. Yamato Hotsuin, standing there with a little puzzled quirk to his expression, lips slightly parted in questioning, backdrop a glorious and wonderful stage with columns and dark blue lights. It’s doing terrible things to his restraint and he swallows. And for good measure, he swallows a second time. The light is reflecting off Yamato’s light hair and it looks even more lavender than usual like this. Angelic. He looks angelic despite all his flaws and Hibiki feels absolutely rooted to the carpet.

“Hibiki?”

It’s then that Hibiki realizes it’s the second time he’s called him his given name tonight. The information registers and he wants to sputter but doesn’t; he feels far too bewitched. 

“Just… taking in the experience,” Hibiki explains, mouth dry and hands curled into half-fists at his sides.

“Hm. Yes, it is … picturesque,” Yamato comments and there’s a quirk of a smile at the far reaches of his face. His gaze drifts to the murals on the ceiling and then lands back down on Hibiki who is still staring at _him_. “You’re blocking traffic. Come.” And there’s a teasing smile taking shape as he turns away and heads to the seats listed on their tickets.

“I’m in love,” Hibiki groans to himself, hand reaching up to scrub away the idiotic awe from his face.

A portly man beside him must have been listening to the exchange – waiting to get by Hibiki – and he simply chuckles. There’s a rough hand, worn down from age, clasping his shoulder and a deep voice says, “Aren’t we all, kid? Aren’t we all?”

And Hibiki nearly squeaks but blushes a fiery red and hurries to his seat.

Called the fuck out.

* * *

“Is there no … popcorn here?”

Yamato tosses him the flattest of looks. The recital is about to begin and Hibiki is restlessly fidgeting in the seat. It’s comfortable but he’s used to munching on popcorn and soda when he’s waiting to watch something. He’s very much aware of the fact that this is not the local theater and it’s far less sticky and more refined but he just can’t shake the urge of wanting to chow down on buttery carbs.

“There is champagne and food outside,” Yamato says.

“Oh, boo, so nothing I can have.” Hibiki scrunches up his nose and slumps further in his seat. His arms defensively cross over his chest and he almost misses the smirk playing at Yamato’s lips.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, I am. I’m part of the high society, now. Soon, I’ll be coming into work with a powdered wig and fancy shoes and –”

Hibiki is silenced when a gloved hand slides over his mouth. It does the job, because he shuts the hell up and looks down at the offensive appendage. The childish urge to lick it surfaces but he banishes it. He just became “friends” with Yamato and he doesn’t want to scare him off by being a complete dreg.

“Hibiki, you’re causing a scene.”

But Yamato sounds downright _entertained_. 

“You’recausingascene,” comes out muffled behind Yamato’s hand. At least he _isn’t licking_. Yamato’s hand eventually slips away and frees Hibiki’s mouth. Accordingly, the boy sucks in a deep breath. “Fresh air!” 

Now that he’s freed from temptation, Hibiki risks a glance back over at the General beside him to open a new can of worms. He’s just sitting there, elegantly flipping through the small pamphlet detailing the songs and renditions for the evening. His hair is gracefully falling in his face and Hibiki wants nothing more than to reach out and tuck it behind his ear. Is that gay? He thinks that’s gay. He’d never do that to Daichi, no matter how annoying it was. So yeah. Probably gay.

“Do you come here often?” Hibiki questions and it sounds so much like a pickup line that even _he_ cringes.

Yamato doesn’t look up but he makes a thoughtful humming noise. 

“From time to time, yes.” Yamato doesn’t sound entirely convinced of that himself. “It’s a… newer hobby, of sorts. I find the music relaxing.”

Classical music is supposed to be that way, Hibiki thinks. Emotionally driven and inspirational and relaxing. He’s about to offer up his continued patronage here but the lights dim and the pianist enters the stage from the left, arousing the loudest boom of applause possible.

So Hibiki shuts up. He shuts up and he listens.

* * * 

Halfway through the second act Hibiki presses pause on his own emotional roller-coaster induced from the music to spare a look at Yamato. It’s amazing how long the pianist has arrested his attention.

So when Hibiki finally looks back over, he falls in love all over again. Yamato is focused entirely on the stage and is completely still, unlike a few other patrons who are nodding with the music. Hibiki thinks he looks frozen to the spot but notices out of the corner of his eye the slight twitch of Yamato’s fingers and he realizes that in this world Yamato must have had the time and the desire to learn to play. It’s absolutely enchanting and Hibiki wants to lean out of his seat and take that hand. But he doesn’t. He watches, biting his bottom lip, listening to the crescendos echoing in the hall around them and allows his heart to seize up. He thinks he finally understands that whole “something so beautiful” bringing someone to near-tears sentiment.

Yamato must feel his gaze because his own pries itself away from the stage and lands on the boy beside him. A brow quirks up – questioning – and he just blinks at him. Hibiki isn’t sure if he should look away or just smile, so he decides on the latter.

The action seems to placate Yamato because there’s a tiny, fond smile back before he looks back towards the stage.

By god Yamato Hotsuin is smiling again and Hibiki thinks it’s something reserved for him all over again. Sling on his arm be damned, he’s absurdly happy in this moment and no one can take it from him.

He lets his hand fall on the armrest between them. It’s an obscure and subtle gesture: hand position. It’s hand position and Yamato should _pick up_ on that and _pick up his hand_. But Yamato is either too engrossed in the music or just not interested because he never touches his hand.

Hibiki can’t help the way his high comes crashing down.

* * * 

“That was _amazing_!”

Hibiki is bouncing excitedly around Yamato as they traverse the chilly streets of Shibuya. The concert has let out and it’s late and Hibiki thinks that he should be heading home and getting some rest. Even if he’s not on field-work for two weeks, he still has paperwork and that’s a real drag. He needs to be well-rested. 

But that would mean leaving Yamato’s side. That would mean breaking the spell this enchanted evening has placed upon them.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” Yamato says and he’s fiddling with something.

Before Hibiki notices, there’s a warm, grey scarf wrapping itself around his neck. Yamato’s fingers brush against the sides of his neck in the process of neatly tucking the fabric in on itself. The touch sends hot white fire through him and his heartbeat reaches unhealthy speeds. 

“Gen—”

“…It is my understanding that friends prefer to use given names. So please, feel free to refer to me as such.”

Hibiki wonders if that’s okay given their work hierarchy but he just can’t care. He smiles, watches the way Yamato’s hands linger in the scarf, and by god he can almost feel his breath against his face. He’s not exceptionally close and he’s not leaning in but it’s cold and Yamato is a furnace and his hands are just _there_. Be still his gay little bunny heart.

“Yamato,” Hibiki tries out and it feels like he’s opening pandora’s box full of all his dirty secrets. He’s certain that with that one word he’s letting on to every single thought he’s ever had about the beautiful General in front of him.

Yamato smiles, just faintly, and his hands fall away.

It’s over too soon and Hibiki reaches out to catch those hands before they’re gone forever.

But then he isn’t sure what to do now that he has them. Yamato’s fingers are slim and they’re still in gloves but by god do they feel fragile and warm and everything Hibiki’s wanted them to be.

“Is something wrong?” Yamato asks and he doesn’t at all seem fazed by the awkward and impromptu hand-holding.

“I’m stealing your warmth, silly,” Hibiki explains and it’s only half a lie. He hates himself for it. He hates that he doesn’t have the courage to tell him right then, right there, how he feels and that he _misses_ him even when he’s here. He just wants to lean forward and kiss him and it’s slowly driving him insane.

“Ah. I see.” Yamato actually looks studious and he looks down to their hands. Hibiki thinks that Yamato must be cataloging this in his head as something friends do. It breaks something in Hibiki. “Would you like to borrow my gloves again?”

“I thought you were going to let my fingers freeze off,” Hibiki giggles and he struggles to meet Yamato’s gaze.

It looks soft. “Perhaps. But I think you’ve suffered enough the past few days.”

 _More like past week or so…_ “Aw, you’re so sweet, Yamato.”

“Sweet?”

“Thoughtful, kind,” Hibiki begins to rattle off despite the way his heart pounds in his ears. Abort, abort, he’s screaming at himself but he can’t stop, “You’re a real gentleman. A charmer.”

“Nonsense,” Yamato scoffs but it doesn’t sound entirely put-out. “I am simply being myself. There are no ill-intentions behind it. I am not aiming to beguile you.”

Hibiki snorts and he dares to squeeze Yamato’s hands in his own. “Of course not. But do you really think that’s what I meant? That when someone is being charming and a gentleman that they’re lying or tricking someone?”

Yamato weighs his options before saying, “Sometimes, yes.”

“I mean, maybe bros,” Hibiki says and he interjects before Yamato can question him, “Uh, not brothers. Nevermind on that. But rest assured, Yamato Hotsuin. I do not think that you are a heartless trickster.”

Yamato smirks then. “And the rumors?”

“The rumors?”

“The one’s you mentioned. The ones around the office. The Chilly General,” Yamato hums and he looks far too amused. There’s a twinkling in his eyes and Hibiki can’t believe they’re holding hands in the middle of a sidewalk late at night in Shibuya. It’s something out of a weird dream but he’ll take it. By God he’ll take it. 

“I think,” Hibiki begins, bringing their hands up and swinging them between them, “That you are serious and a workaholic, but in a good way. You don’t like people beating around the bush and you like to get things done efficiently. That doesn’t mean you’re Chilly. In fact, I think you’re quite warm. You’re like a space heater.”

Yamato seems to be receptive to the compliments. “You’re quite sharp.”

“I try,” Hibiki laughs and he swings their hands again. “But seriously, you’re a hundred degrees all the time. It’s great. Maybe not in the summer but I digress.”

“Are you cold?”

“I…” Hibiki shuts himself up and watches the way Yamato’s staring at him. He can play this several ways. He can say he is and see what Yamato does. He can say the scarf is more than enough and that Yamato doesn’t need to offer up his gloves and close off whatever moment this is quickly becoming.

At that moment, Yamato’s phone rings. Because of _course it does_. The General frowns and lets go of Hibiki’s hand to fetch it. His eyes scan the screen on the outside and he sighs loudly.

“I apologize. I won’t be able to accompany you for the rest of the walk. There is something urgent I must attend to back at the office.”

“Oh.” Hibiki can’t easily conceal his disappointment but there’s a smile. It’s fake but it’s there. “You go do that, Mister Important. I’m a big boy and walk myself home. But thanks.”

Yamato nods. There’s a moment of hesitation and Yamato looks like he’s about to say something but ultimately he turns on his heel.

“Rest well, then, Hibiki.”

Hibiki watches him begin to walk away, the moment completely smashed into a million pieces. He should have kissed him. He should have surged forward and dragged his hands into his hair and _kissed_ him. 

“Yamato?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around but he does slow his pace.

“It was nice to … see you again. Thanks. Have a good night, Chief.”

* * * 

**SENT:** so update. I just had a moment with yamato.

 **SENT:** sort of. we went to a piano recital.

 **SENT:** he bought my ticket and everything.  
**DAICHI:** Wow, dude. Seriously what in the hell is wrong with you two?

 **SENT:** you mean besides young love?!

 **SENT:** lol I think he’s just glad to have a friend.

 **SENT:** remember how lonely he used to be? In that first world?

 **DAICHI:** Yeah. How could I forget? He didn’t know what soccer or dodgeball were.

 **SENT:** lol that’s true. 

**SENT:** um you can stop me if I’m rambling but I just.

 **SENT:** I want to show him the world. Not like in that sappy way – ok maybe that too, but like. he doesn’t know anything that we do from our childhood. I doubt he’s played a video game before. I doubt he’s like been on a swingset. 

**DAICHI:** Ok Nicholas Sparks.

 **SENT:** pls stop lol. I just. Listen if I don’t tell you these things I’m gonna tell him and freak him the hell out.

**DAICHI:** ?????

 **DAICHI:** Is he not gay? Is that the problem? Is this why you’re dragging your feet so long, man?

 **SENT:** idfk what he is. You know he’s probably ace? I don’t think he’d know a sexual urge if it came up and bit him in the ass.

 **DAICHI:** Okay okay! I regret bringing that up! I really don’t want to know these details about him. Gross, gross, gross.

Hibiki smiles drowsily up at his phone. He’s still on his back, wearing his hoodie, too lazy to have gotten into something to sleep in. It’s late and he should be going to bed but he can’t stop the way his heart is still pounding after today, after tonight. He feels so close to _something_ but it just doesn’t have a name. Maybe with this, maybe this continued progress, he can maybe one day kiss that stupid and grumpy face.

 **SENT:** ok ok I –

A knock on his door. It must be his neighbor again asking if his heater is out. Apparently the building has spotty heat and it wouldn’t be the first time since he moved in that his neighbor decided to come pester him at obscure hours.

 **SENT:** lol hold on it’s that dude at my door again. Pls hold and then I will return to my gay yamato serenade.

He drops his phone onto his bed and slides off the bed. Slowly, he makes his way to the front door, not even bothering to turn on any lights. It’s not like he’s going to be inviting the crazy guy inside. The heel of his palm presses against his eyes and maybe he’s a lot more exhausted than he thought he was. Being on his feet is not doing spectacular things for him.

“Hey, so if it’s about the heater, mine is kinda busted too, so—”

“Heater?”

Yamato is standing in his doorway, blinking, confused, and absolutely _soaking wet_. It takes Hibiki a moment to remember that it had started to rain on his lonely walk home from the concerthall. His heart stops and he bites his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, at the sight of Yamato’s clothes clinging to him and the fact that it’s one in the morning and he’s _here_ for seemingly no reason.

“Hi?” Hibiki asks, nervously giggling. “Did you get lost? Should I walk _you_ back home?”

Yamato frowns, as if remembering why he was here in the first place. The General’s eyes narrow and there’s suddenly a hand _slamming_ against his doorframe. It’s not a kabedon but it’s something close and Yamato is leaning closer, eyes sharp and narrow and he looks moderately pissed off. Any other time Hibiki would find it hot. Right now? Right now he’s just terrified.

“Um,” Hibiki almost squeaks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry? Did I overstep something with that joke? You know you can tell me to shut up, right?”

“I don’t appreciate deception, Hibiki.”

“Ah—what?” Hibiki meets those icy eyes and he is so, so lost. “Deception? What? Did I make a mistake in my report or… or did you finally try that snack or what?” He’s rambling because he’s nervous and he’s nervous because Yamato looks like he wants to gut him like a fish. There goes the romantic vibes from earlier.

“You remember, don’t you?”

“Remember… what, was I supposed to do something? Am I supposed to remember why I ticked off my boss?” His ears are burning and he feels sort of sick. Should he feel guilty? Maybe. “Um, do you wanna come in? We can talk it out and you can yell at me properly in here?”

Yamato seems to be at his wits end. The hand slips from the doorframe and suddenly Yamato is gripping his jaw. His gloves are off – probably soaked in his pockets – and with his hair clinging to his face like this, he looks so _exposed_. And vulnerable. He looks strangely vulnerable and Hibiki can’t explain it. He's never seen Yamato quite like this and it makes his heart soar and drop all at the same time. 

“I said, you remember, don’t you.” This time it sounds like a declaration more than a question. 

“Yamato, really, I—”

“Of everyone, I should have suspected that you would retain your memories. You never cease to impress me, always surpassing my expectations. However, I can’t excuse your willful blindness towards me.” Yamato's fingers grip tighter on Hibiki's chin, blunt nails nearly breaking the skin.

What.

 _What_.

What?

“You…” Hibiki chokes and his eyes go wide. There's no mishearing that. There's no misinterpreting that. Yamato just _said that_.

An explosion happens in his chest and a million different things run through his head. He isn’t sure what to latch onto first, what to _think_ first. Hibiki feels like he’s running a marathon and by god why is breathing so _hard_? An unmistakable smile stretches over Hibiki’s face and he throws his good arm around his friend before he can do anything else. Yamato’s hand falls away in the fray and Hibiki hides his face against the juncture of the General’s shoulder and neck.

“You remember,” Hibiki breathes out, and now he’s certain he’s shaking. “You _remember_. Oh my god, you big idiot you remember…”

“Hibiki.”

“I’m so happy. I’m just so happy that you’re … that you’re here.” Hibiki’s hand tightens around Yamato’s neck and he’s certain he’s about to start crying. Yamato’s clothes are wet and he’s cold but he just doesn’t _care_ as weeks worth of frustration and uncertainty pour out of him like a faucet. 

“Hibiki.”

“I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“…Hibiki.”

“Hm?”

Hibiki stops rambling for two seconds when he registers that Yamato is speaking. Hibiki's good hand don’t loosen its death grip but he manages to peek up from his hiding place against Yamato. There’s a soft look angled down at him and he feels like he’s having an out of body experience right here, right now. He can smell the fresh rain on Yamato and his cologne and he really needs to _focus_.

“…Am I to understand that you thought I didn’t remember?” That deadly sharpness is gone and Yamato looks softer, more understanding, more expectant. He looks like a seventeen year old boy that had the weight of the world on his shoulders and struggled to understand the world and the people in it. He looks _beautiful_.

Hibiki huffs and arches his back away, keeping his arms woven around Yamato’s neck for good measure. “You yelled at me! And called me Kuze! Of course I didn't think you remembered me!”

“You kicked open my door,” Yamato responds, flatly.

“I – okay. But if I didn’t remember would I have kicked your door? My boss’ door? On the first day?”

“You are quite enigmatic and unconventional,” Yamato answers and that just makes Hibiki pout all over again. “I was under the impression that you lost your memories. I was merely following your lead after you made it clear you weren’t bringing up the previous worlds.”

Hibiki grinds his teeth together, close to crying and punching Yamato. There’s a stinging in his eyes and he'd hate to cry at a moment like this. “Wait so… how did you figure it out? What’d I do?”

“There were a few hints along the way,” Yamato murmurs. “Nothing concrete until today, of course. You said something of particular interest in my office so I wanted to explore the possibility that you remembered.”

“So that’s why you invited me out.”

“Not entirely,” Yamato muses, sounding thoughtful. “I simply thought you’d enjoy the experience.”

Ah. 

“What’d I do that gave it away entirely, though?”

“You called me Chief.”

“Oh.”

Woops.

Hibiki blushes and hides his face again, his good hand very slowly unclasping from around Yamato’s neck. His hand drops uselessly to his side and he just stands there, leaning against the other for support. He’s so happy but he’s also so tired and he just isn’t sure what to say or do.

“…It is nice to see you again, Hibiki. In this world.”

“You too,” Hibiki says, forcing back tears, as he makes it a habit of staring at Yamato’s lapels. “It’s really, really nice to see you again.”

Yamato smiles – and it’s that same smile from the last word – and Hibiki’s heart burns hot. 

“You’re soaking wet, oh my god you’re going to catch a cold. Please come inside and change into something warm and borrow my umbrella?”

Hibiki doesn’t want to let him out of his sight. Relief is coursing through him, surging, and he wants to stay up all night now that there are no pretenses. He can’t even focus on his crush right now. All he cares about is that this _is_ Yamato and that his friend hadn’t forgotten about him. Hibiki is too much of a mess right now to properly analyze his own feelings, the situation, and it's best to leave it for another time. He just needs to focus on keeping Yamato from catching pneumonia. That's all. 

But... if Yamato remembered, if he truly remembered, where did that leave them now? Friends? Equals? Did Yamato even like him? 

As much as this made things better, it just made them so much more complicated.

**END OF ACT ONE**


	8. act two: chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people kiss. hibiki texts. and hibiki finally makes a decision.
> 
> so begins the second act!! this is a very light and happy chapter.  
> the big plot will kick-in soon.  
> it's p obvious where this is going in my opinion.  
> sorry guys.  
> i don't mean to hurt anyone.

Two weeks go by much faster when you aren’t plagued by despair.  

The physical therapy for his arm is over shortly and Otome is satisfied with the way his arm has healed.  Apparently the wound wasn’t as bad as she originally speculated.  Bedrest and zero fieldwork had helped in the effort, too.  But now that two weeks were up and Hibiki was free from his confinements, he felt energetic.  There was energy buzzing in him and he wanted nothing more than to return to the field and _train_.  He wouldn’t let the incident with Asura repeat itself.  

Although Hibiki’s fear regarding Yamato were quieted there was still a part of Hibiki that wanted to impress him.  Hibiki had been so _powerful_ in that last world.  They all had saved the world together.  Now, to easily be defeated by a singular demon?  It hurt the small amount of pride he had left.  Hibiki wouldn’t let it happen again.

Speaking of things Hibiki would not allow to happen again…

Hibiki sits curled up on the small loveseat in Yamato’s office.  His JP’s laptop is neatly resting on his lap and there’s a tiny bag of chips beside him.  Yamato is engrossed in whatever it is he’s been meticulously chipping away at for the past hour and a half.  The General hasn’t said a single word and strangely Hibiki is fine with that.  Knowing Yamato was safe, here and filled with _their_ memories was enough.  The silence was comforting.  Except for the crumbling of the chip bag and loud, incessant crunching whenever Hibiki claimed his next victim.

“Hibiki.”

“Hm?”

Hibiki looks up from his laptop screen.  Yamato is finally looking his way, brows furrowing and expression a nice mix of frustration and dismay.  It looks stupidly cute.

“When I said you were welcomed to spend as much time in my office as you’d like,” Yamato begins, nose twitching and Hibiki can feel the but coming, “That did not include dirtying it with crumbs.”

“I’m being careful,” Hibiki says with a feigned pout.  He hoists the bag in the air and gives it a tiny shake.  “No crumbs here!”

“...The noise is distracting,” Yamato tries again and it’s so endearing how hard he’s trying to express his absolute hatred at the carbohydrates.  How dare they be in his general vicinity, assaulting his ears in such a cruel fashion?  

“Is it?”  Hibiki tries to hide the shit-eating grin that’s taking shape.  It doesn’t work very well.  “I can go eat in the garden, it’s fine.  My legs are getting stiff anyway.”

Yamato looks thankful, the crease in his brows disappearing.  His fingers return to the keyboard but then fall away for a second time within seconds.  Honestly, he just looks downright _uncomfortable_.  It’s a rare sight for someone as composed and cool as Yamato Hotsuin and Hibiki almost misses it as he gets to his feet and shuts his laptop.

“A walk sounds like a decent idea,” Yamato finally says and he pushes away from the desk and stands.  

“Aw, who says I want you to go on a walk with me?” Hibiki jests and Yamato opens his mouth, that troubled look reappearing, and Hibiki quickly amends, “No, come with me.  That’d be fun.  It’d be nice to see you get out of this stuffy office for a few minutes.”

Yamato doesn’t bother correcting him but nods.  So off to the garden they go.

* * * 

“I don’t see the point of this.”

“You’re not trying hard enough is the problem,” Hibiki downright giggles, unabashedly indulging in the grumpy look Yamato tosses at him over _that_ completely improper suggestion.

Yamato’s hard stare leaves the older boy and returns to the sky.  They’re laying in a small patch of grass in the garden on the third floor of JP’s.  Hibiki is humming to himself, watching the clouds pass them by, utterly relaxed.  Yamato is laying beside him, also on his back, but looks far less relaxed.  His arms are folded against his chest and he’s scrutinizing the sky with an intensity that would probably scare half the agents in the building.

“Can you really not see that teacup?  Really?” Hibiki presses on and he’s now gesturing at the sky.  His fingers trace irregular shapes in the sky.

“That’s a nimbus,” Yamato corrects, flatly, but sounds faintly amused despite himself.

“You’re a nimbus,” Hibiki huffs and he can’t miss the sidelong dagger of a look Yamato is giving him.

“If anything, I would be a cirrus,” Yamato answers and there’s that teasing smirk at the edge of his lips.  “Do you happen to know why?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t study astrology in my spare time.”

“It’s meteorology,” Yamato says with a long-suffering sigh.  “It was part of the expansive curriculum my tutors prepared for me.”  Hibiki makes a noise but Yamato continues, “A cirrus is one of the highest clouds in the sky.”

Hibiki sticks his tongue out.  “Oh okay, Mister Important.  Mister High and Mighty.  Mister --”

Yamato accordingly covers Hibiki’s mouth with his hand just as he did at the concert hall.  Hibiki shuts up and doesn’t dare breathe until the hand falls away.  Hibiki’s lungs are on fire and it’s unfair how easily a single touch sets his cells on fire.  It’s unfair how easy it is to forget how stupidly in love he is with Yamato - that they’re just friends who saw hell together and tease the crap out of each other -  until it all explodes in his face.  

So instead of letting the moment pass and allowing his heart to return to a normal rate, Hibiki reaches out to catch Yamato’s hand before it’s gone.  The General quirks a brow but does nothing else.  Slowly, Hibiki lifts their adjoined hands - his fingers grasped tightly around Yamato’s warm hand - and points up at the sky.

“This is a teacup,” Hibiki explains, guiding Yamato’s fingers so that they begin to sketch a teacup in the sky.  “See?”

“I…”  Yamato begins but then looks absolutely _puzzled_.  A smile appears and grey eyes _sparkle_.  “I see it now, yes.  It’s a poor excuse for one, but I’ll give you it.”

“Yay,” Hibiki giggles and then jerks their hands to the far right, to another cloud formation.  “Okay, so this one is a bit harder.   This one is a--”

“A cat.”

“Uh, no, that’s definitely not a cat.  That’s clearly a pig.”

“Hibiki, it has a long tail.”

“Where -- oh, I see it!  I guess that’s a cat.”  Hibiki’s heart is in his throat and he can’t stop himself from threading his fingers in the spaces between Yamato’s.  It feels safe.  It feels _right_.  “Do you like cats?”

“They’re fine,” Yamato responds, unfazed by the increase in physical contact.  “Why?”

“Just curious,” Hibiki says innocently enough and begins tracing the shape of the cat in the sky.  “Jungo is giving me a kitten soon, I think.  You can come over and meet it.”

“A kitten.”  Yamato isn’t sure what face to make so he just blinks at the beautiful blue sky above them.  “And if I am allergic?”

“Then I’ll shoo you away from my apartment never to return.”  Hibiki squeezes their hands.   _As if I have the restraint to do that_.

Yamato chuckles and it’s such a hot noise that Hibiki temporarily turns pink.  The General’s eyes shut, thankfully, and he seems entirely at peace.  Against his better judgment, Hibiki lets their hands come to rest in the grass.  He doesn’t let go.

A few minutes pass in absolute silence.  A small breeze rustles a few of the trees but apart from that, the only noise Hibiki can hear is Yamato’s gentle breathing.  Is this a moment?  Is this it?  Hibiki’s watching intently and finds himself shifting so that he’s leaning on his side.  The grass tickles his face but he doesn’t care, too mesmerized with the pale porcelain skin in front of him.

Yamato must feel his gaze because his eyes open halfway.  Through the small cracks, they turn to Hibiki.  “Is something wrong?”

“Nope,” Hibiki answers and bites his tongue so he doesn’t say something embarrassing.  

Another thoughtful noise departs from between Yamato’s lips and he shuts his eyes once more.  Hibiki’s hand tightens its hold.  This is it.  This is the moment, he tells himself.  This is make or break.  If Yamato rejects him then he can easily explain the mixed signals.  The guy has the emotional intelligence of a paper bag and he’d probably be embarrassed as well.  So it’s fine.   It’s fine if he just leans closer.   He just needs to build the courage to lean over and dip down and _kiss_ him.

But before he can truly resolve to do such, Yamato’s phone rings.  Hibiki decides to add ‘burn that fucking phone’ to his to-do list.   There’s only so many times it can ruin a moment.

Yamato uses his free hand to retrieve the device and answer it.  “Yes?”

There’s silence, because Yamato’s phone’s volume is low enough that Hibiki can’t make out any words.  “...Yes, very well.  I shall meet you there.”

The conversation ends abruptly and Yamato sits up.  There are blades of grass in his hair and the coat he’s wearing is slightly crumbled.  He looks cute and like a seventeen year old that just rolled around in the grass and Hibiki’s heart pumps out fire.

“Take the chips out of my office,” Yamato orders him as he puts away his phone and turns to look at the boy laying beside him.  Even with the harsh command, Yamato's tone is light and his eyes give away the fondness he feels.  

So Hibiki stares back, a tiny and lazy smile on his face.  Their hands are still clasped together and Hibiki wants to _pull_ and yank Yamato down to his level.  But he doesn’t.  He looks up at the General and in the natural light of day notices the bags under his eyes, barely noticeable under the charcoal that line Yamato’s eyes.  He can’t remember a time where he’s looked so _tired_.

“Behave yourself while I’m gone, Hibiki,” Yamato says and his hand slips away.  

The General gets to his feet, brushes the grass off his coat, and gives Hibiki one final _look_ before heading for the exit of the garden.  Hibiki remains glued to the spot, heart loudly thudding in his ears.  

If Yamato liked him, would he have said anything?  Done anything?  Or was the General that emotionally stinted that he couldn’t discern his own affection, his own physical attraction, from the feeling of camaraderie?  Hibiki groans and hides his face with his hands when he’s certain Yamato has left.  For how happy he is, he feels entirely stressed out.  He knows he’s putting it on himself but damn.  Damn is it not _fair_.  At this rate, all of his friends are going to be _engaged_ before he finally gets the chance to tease out Yamato’s true feelings.

If Daichi gets a boyfriend before him he’s going to burn himself alive.

* * * 

“Yeah!  He had the kittens the other day!”

Airi is excitedly bouncing around Hibiki’s apartment, her hands wildly going in every which direction.  Hinako is in the kitchen, cooking something, trying her best not to snicker at the other girl’s threatrics.

“Jungo took pictures!” Airi continues and she rushes over to the couch where Hibiki is sitting.  In her hand is her phone and she’s shoving the device in Hibiki’s face.  On the screen is a blur of what appears to be four kittens nestled against Jungo the Cat.  Hibiki can’t help the ‘aw’ that escapes him.  God, how manly is he, anyway?

“You’re gonna take one, right?” Airi pries and she narrows her eyes suddenly, “Because you said you would!  And Jungo is excited about it.”

“I think you’re excited to have a reason to come over here more,” Hibiki says and he receives a light smack upside the head.

“Um!  That’s not it at all?!  Don’t be stupid, Hibiki,” she huffs and quickly hurries back into the kitchen to resume her chopping duties.

Hibiki lightly rubs the back of his head where Airi had gracefully smacked him.  He wouldn’t trade it for the world.  Still, a kitten would be a lot of responsibility and while it would lighten up this place, he can’t help but wonder if he’s ready for one.  It isn’t a kid, but it’s still a commitment.  He tries his best to ignore the fact that the possibility of Yamato being _allergic_ isn’t a driving force behind this decision.  Because that’d just be _smitten_.

 **SENT:**  it’s a calico!  I’m getting a little tiny calico.

 **YAMATO:** Excuse me?

 **SENT:**  the kitten i mentioned.  Airi showed me a picture.  It’s so tiny and full of fluff and happiness!

 **YAMATO:** I … see.  When is this happening?

 **SENT:** uhhh not sure?  next month?  you can’t separate a kitten too early. 

**YAMATO:** Do you have the necessary supplies?

 **SENT:** lol it’s a month away.  don’t you worry about it. 

**YAMATO:** You’re waiting until the last minute, aren’t you?  Also, what is “lol”?

 **SENT:** i love you hahahahahahaa.

 **YAMATO:** ?

Hibiki is blushing madly and he’s about to say something stupid when he looks from his phone and catches something out of the corner of his eye.  Airi and Hinako have stopped cooking and are whispering, just barely in sight.  The counter is making it hard to see them but they seem to be engaged in some serious discussion.  Hibiki feels bad and is about to return to giggling at his phone but.

But he doesn’t.

Because Hinako’s hand is reaching up and brushing Airi’s stubborn bangs back over her ear.  The girl blushes hotly but doesn’t flail, doesn’t move away, and merely huffs.  It’s adorable.  Hibiki’s kind of jealous, if he’s being honest, but the thought dies when Hinako’s other arm slides around the shorter’s waist.

And that’s when they kiss, just like that.  Hinako tilts her head down and very gently kisses Airi.  And Airi doesn’t move a muscle.  She doesn’t push her away, she doesn’t holler, she doesn’t punch.  No, it looks like Airi is responding favorably, her tiny hands coming up to weave around Hinako’s shoulders, pulling her closer -

And oh my god he shouldn’t be watching this.

He looks back down at his phone, mouth dry and tries to focus on the text from Yamato that’s lighting up his screen.

 **YAMATO:** I have a meeting to go to.  I’ll write to you after.  Have a good dinner, Hibiki.

 **SENT:** yup you too.   <3

Hibiki swallows audibly and when he glances back to the kitchen the girls have separated and have resumed cooking.  Oh thank god.  He doesn’t have to feel like a creep in his own home anymore.  

It isn’t until they’re seated on the couch, food in their laps, television set turned on, that Hibiki finally calls them out.

“Congratulations.  When’s the wedding for real this time?”

They both hit him at the same time.

* * * 

Hibiki is laying up in bed, staring at his phone, Netflix playing on his laptop a few feet away. He can’t sleep. Today had been a very large exercise in self-control. True, while he had embarrassed the absolute shit out of his two good friends, he had barely been able to control himself otherwise. There were far too many moments, far too many openings, for him to explain to Yamato how he felt. Or, at the very least, ask him out on a proper date. But each and every time, either a phone ringing cut him short or he remembered how terrifying a prospect it would be for Yamato to start acting _awkward_ around him. If he didn’t return his feelings – which was a very real possibility – things could get super weird and super fast. Was he really ready to jeopardize this friendship now that he finally had it back?

 **SENT:** so I have some gossip for you

 **DAICHI:** Is it about io? Dude I already know it’s nuts!!!!!

 **SENT:** … nope not that gossip. Pls continue?

 **DAICHI:** Oh crap she didn’t tell you yet? Nevermind!!

 **SENT:** tell me what?

 **SENT:** tell me whattttttt daichi???

 **SENT:** daichi come on, old buddy ole pal.

 **SENT:** let’s swap secrets. you first.

 **DAICHI:** Dude my phone is freezing, chill?!

 **SENT:** and? Lol are you gonna tell me or?

 **DAICHI:** Io and Miyako are like going on a date? Or something? Io was telling me turned down a guy in her study group and I asked her why thinking it was just because the dude was weird but she told me she had other plans. Like, other people plans. And I finally got it out of here. Like holy shit?

 **SENT:** this is surprising to you?

 **SENT:** i mean good for them seriously. after the tea incident lol. 

**SENT:** faster than I thought tho. 

**DAICHI:** Am I the only person who didn’t see this coming? Geez…

 **SENT:** my condolences, brother. there are other fish in the sea.

 **DAICHI:** What?!?! I don’t like her, dude! What the hell….

 **DAICHI:** Seriously!!!

 **SENT:** mhmmmmmm. 

**SENT:** speaking of fish in the sea, there are a lot of striped basses out there.

 **DAICHI:** What? Hibiki dude what? Does that even mean?

 **SENT:** it’s cryptic on purpose ;)

 **SENT:** anyway my turn I guess? 

**SENT:** guess who I saw smooching? Like in my physical kitchen?

 **DAICHI:** Uh? 

**SENT:** airi and hinako finally!!! they’re dating. it’s super cute. 

**SENT:** I guess they’ve been dating for a week but didn’t know how to tell everyone?

 **DAICHI:** Oh. My. God.

 **DAICHI:** I wasn’t there to see that?! What the hell?!

 **DAICHI:** Oh my god, are all our friends gay? Am I the only straight one? What the hell?

 **SENT:** you? Straight?

 **DAICHI:** The hell does that mean? Man?

 **SENT:** lol nvm. Anyway I should go to bed. I have work in the morning!

 **DAICHI:** Yeah how’s that going?

 **DAICHI:** You finally get out of your own way and tell him? Or something? 

**SENT:** haha. nope. But we held hands again and it was v romantic. 

**DAICHI:** ….

 **SENT:** to be fair it wasn’t my fault this time. His phone went off AGAIN and I couldn’t do a damn thing. Maybe next time.

 **DAICHI:** You’re so gay go to sleep, geez.

 **SENT:** maybe I’ll dream of rainbows and hotsuins.

 **DAICHI:** Please shut up. Goodnight, dude.

* * * 

Hibiki should feel bad.  Really, he ought to feel guilty for eavesdropping but he hadn’t _meant_ to.  

Hibiki had been on his way to Miyako’s office to report in when he stumbled across the Hotsuin twins engaged in a heated discussion.  Hibiki had been about to turn on his heel, give them their privacy, but Miyako’s words caught his attention and nailed him to the spot.

“Brother.  You’re being foolish.”

Sounds about right.

“It is none of your concern, _Sister_.”

“It is indeed my concern,” Miyako answers, tone and tongue sharp, “for it deals with my best General, my brother, _and_ the Dragon Stream.  It is of _grave_ concern for me, in fact.”

Yamato makes a frustrated noise through his nose and Hibiki can almost picture the ugly expression he’s making.  He hopes it’s never directed at him ever again.

“Ignore it,” Yamato tells her, coldly, “It is simply the way this world works.  It is my problem and I will deal with it accordingly and on my own time and in my own way.”

Miyako huffs, “Your words are full of hot-air, brother.  I’ve spoken with Him and he knows just as little as you do.”

There’s shuffling and Hibiki quickly scampers away before he can be caught.

When he’s safely down the hall and out of eyesight he slumps against the wall.  And he just thinks.  What about the Dragon Stream?  What was Yamato doing that was foolish?  What was foolish enough for Miyako to call him out so sharply?  Hibiki’s gut begins to drop and there’s a renewed wave of nausea, of nerves, that wash over him.  Was Yamato doing something that was putting his life in jeopardy?  The information unsettled him and Hibiki couldn’t help the way he bit his lips hard enough until they bled.

 _Maybe something’s wrong with the seal_ , Hibiki speculates.  Just like in the last world, maybe there were strong demons screwing with the seal at Mt. Fuji.  It was a longshot but it could explain the frustrated conversation between the twins.  Maybe something was feeding off the stream and Yamato and Miyako weren’t sure how to handle it?  Maybe that’s why Yamato looked so tired? 

“Could be,” Hibiki whispers under his breath and it makes a great deal of _sense_.  

He hesitates, peeking over his shoulder to make sure the coast is still clear.  It’s a dumb idea, he knows, and he’s probably going to hear holy hell for it, but curiosity killed the cat.  He can’t just sit here and have his friends, the world, _Yamato_ placed in danger because everyone is sitting around waiting it out.  

So like the sentimental fool he is, Hibiki makes a decision.


	9. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hibiki vists mt. fuji and things happen.
> 
> no i didn't??? stay up until four in the morning writing this?  
> gosh that'd be weird.  
> this is easily my favorite chapter so far.  
> and it's not because it's the longest?!  
> i wonder why?  
> anyway, yeah. jazz hands. here we go.

A benefit of Yamato’s resurgence of memories, so to speak, are all the work-related perks. One of those advantages is being able to use corporate assets and funds without prior written approval. Most field agents don’t have that power, but given Hibiki’s unique experience with JP’s, and his relationship with both the Chief and his overseer, he’s always been an exception.

Which makes it easy to sign out a car and a driver for Saturday morning. From his previous daytrips with Yamato, Hibiki’s grown accustomed to the laconic nature of the drivers. He feels bad that he’s rousing this particularly portly old man at nine in the morning on a Saturday but hey, perhaps-desperate times call for desperate measures. 

It’s cold, though. It’s colder than any previous trips and Hibiki rubs his hands together the entire trip to Mt. Fuji. He regrets not bringing gloves, _again_ , and he regrets not asking Yamato to accompany him. But if Yamato were to join him, he wouldn’t get his answers. Yamato would shove any suspicions under the rug and proceed with the day as normally as possible. And this was just too important to let it slide.

It’s probably a stupid idea, Hibiki realizes halfway to Mt. Fuji. If he had use of the Terminal he could have just zapped here instantly, but here he is, using a black JP’s car, probably breaking all sorts of rules. Here he is, going to Mt. Fuji on a hunch. And a hunch that, even if correct, _still_ won’t yield much. Short of a demon openly gnawing on part of the stream, there’s little _Hibiki_ can do. He isn’t Miyako, he isn’t Yamato, and he’s barely above average in terms of spiritual power in this world.

This idea was all kinds of bad.

Once they arrive, the driver parks and goes about sipping his now lukewarm coffee. There’s a newspaper in the passenger seat and he seems to be in for the long-haul. God bless this man. Hibiki murmurs his utmost gratitude as he slides out of the car and into the cold winter air.

And it really is _fucking cold_.

Hibiki tries to become one with the striped scarf he’s brought along for the journey. It doesn’t go so well. So with frozen appendages, Hibiki begins the ascent.

* * *

The last time they were here, Miyako had ordered a slew of high-ranking demons to guard the Seal. It had been a ridiculous fight involving well-timed victories. There had been more than enough blood, sweat and tears.

This time? It’s eerily quiet. There are no demons standing around, no shadows lurking on the wall, and certainly no JP’s agents waiting to ambush him. It’s just quiet and cold as hell. It’s almost a disappointment.

“There goes that idea,” Hibiki mumbles, arms hugged close to his body. 

Despite his defeat, he heads further inside anyway since he’s here. This place has always held a mystical air to it. To think that the Dragon Stream would be connected _here_ , of all places. To think that the Stream was capable of rendering alien invaders powerless. It was awe-inspiring and a bit bone-chilling to know that the Stream still existed in this moderately peaceful world. 

He stops at the edge of one of the pillars. There’s a long drop down from here and Hibiki has no interest on leaning on the railing to stare down into the abyss. It’s too early to get existential.

“Guess there’s nothing going on after all,” Hibiki says to himself, tone not at all hiding his disappointment.

If there had been a rogue demon, if one of the pillars had looked _off_ , then Hibiki could save the day. He could solve the problem. But now, he’s just staring at the inside of some mountain like the low-ranking agent he is. He’s just as useless as he had been before stepping in here. The mystery of Miyako and Yamato’s argument continued.

Against his better judgment, Hibiki leans against the stone slab of one of the pillars. His eyes shut and he tries to will away the supernatural chill only Mt. Fuji is capable of producing. He feels strangely at peace here, all things considered. If it wasn’t so far away, maybe he could come here more often and just _think_. 

Maybe meditating monks had it right.

Why had he thought that this plan would work? Every time before he had been alongside an actual _Hotsuin_. Why would one of the most mysterious sources of energy in this and every previous world before it reveal its secret to him? Shining One be damned, he wasn’t _that_ special.

“Just let me help you, you idiot,” Hibiki murmurs under his breath, hand reaching up to fiddle with the lanyard of his headphones. “Stop trying to shoulder all the weight yourself. I thought you were done with that.”

It’s easier to yell at a version of Yamato that isn’t here. It’s _much_ easier to be candid with himself when Yamato’s eyes aren’t boring holes into his soul. 

Cold begins to seep into his fingers. It’s icy and blistering and everything a blizzard should be. Hibiki’s eyes flash open and everything around him is tinted _blue_ and then _lavendar_. His heart stops and he jerks his hand off the slab behind him, realizing that his hand is beginning to freeze to the stone. 

Okay, so maybe there was a demon around and he just walked into its icy trap. Shit.

Hibiki’s hand fumbles for his phone, his digits barely moving. There’s already been a loss of sensation and if he can just summon Byakko and shove his hands in that fur of his maybe he’ll be better. But it’s so difficult and if he didn’t know any better, the goddamn Dragon Stream was activating.

A pillar of light, roaring and powerful, surges up through the center of the cavern. He’s seen it before but it’s muted this time; it’s not at its peak but it’s still as glimmering and beautiful and _terrifyingly_ powerful.

“Maybe running is a better option,” Hibiki grits to himself and fumbles away from the pillar towards the cavern’s walls. 

He’s barely made it a few steps - not anywhere near the stairs - before a loud crack resonates in the air. A flash of light illuminates the cavern, a wisp of power lingering afterward. Truthfully, it looks like a branch reaching out from the center of the room. Eventually the wisp takes shape and in its place, surrounded by unbelievably bright lavender light, is a dragon. An _actual dragon_. It’s easily stories high and fills most of the cavern, perching on the tops of the pillars easily. Its body, scales of blue that are glittering in the pale light, looks almost translucent. Perhaps it’s a spirit more than a dragon from lore? Hibiki isn’t sure but he feels like his life is about to flash before his eyes.

Is that the god damn Dragon of the Dragon _Stream_? Lord have mercy on his soul.

Hibiki squints to try and look properly at the beast but it’s difficult with the strange lighting. His body is still frozen to the core and he feels his teeth chattering without his permission. This is bad. This is so bad and he put this on himself. Could he be any dumber?

The dragon’s head whips around and it’s beady, golden eyes are staring directly at him. Hibiki almost faints on the spot when he notices large, pointed teeth peeking out of the dragon’s maw. 

“Hi?” Hibiki dares to ask because what does he have to lose at this point?

“ _Kuze_ ,” the dragon observes and it breathes out through its nose. Gradually, the dragon settles and rests his head down on the top of the pillar closest to Hibiki so it can appraise him properly.

“That’s me…” Hibiki stumbles on his words and his gaze quickly flicks away. “I can leave. I really should be leaving. Sorry for - uh - disrupting you. Really. I know it was really disrespectful and I’m so sorry.”

There’s a tremendous power in the air and it’s almost tangible. A gust of cold rushes past Hibiki and his hair flies in every which direction. Any other time he’d make a joke about how cinematic this moment was. Now? Now he just wants to run but he can’t find the ability to move a singular muscle.

“ _You are marked by the Hotsuin clan._ ”

“...I. What?”

“ _You have tremendous power. Your power is intertwined with the Hotsuin clan. That is why you are able to access portions of this Stream._ ”

Hibiki’s mouth moves but no words come out. Power? Intertwined? With the Hotsuin clan? Sure, given the fact he worked for JP’s and had saved the world with the Hotsuin twins, but? But how does that afford him use of the Dragon Stream? That made zero sense. 

“No, no you see, only Yamato and Miyako can do that. You probably have me - uh - mistaken….?” For what?

The dragon’s eyes seem to narrow. “ _Your power is unmistakable. While you cannot wield the power of the Stream, it reacts to you nonetheless. Otherwise, I would not have awoken._ ”

“That doesn’t make any sense --” Hibiki begins to argue, baffled.

Before he can finish there is a distinct thundering boom from down below. Both the dragon and Hibiki’s attention quickly turns to the lowest platform. The dragon’s nails scrape against metal and its scales glow a dangerous red. At the base of the steps are a few lower level demons - Wendigos, Hibiki recognizes easily enough but it does nothing to alleviate his nerves.

“ _Begone_ ,” the dragon growls, its voice echoing in both Hibiki’s mind and ears. 

The Wendigos seem unperturbed and continue their advance up the stairs. Hibiki imagines they’re attracted to the raw power beaming off from the Stream and there must be a broken Seal _somewhere_ and maybe he was right in his previous suspicions. But there’s time for speculation later. Right now, despite his frozen limbs, he springs into action and summons Byakko just as the dragon vanishes in a burst of light.

The Stream seems to have activated some sort of self-preservation method. The light and temperature return to normal, but the pillar is still glowing brightly. It must still be active, Hibiki panics, and still drawing the attention of the lower demons.

Actual fear rips through him and he’s quick to send Byakko thundering down the steps to lunge at the beasts. A heavy paw swipes at the belly of one of the demons. It easily inflicts a great deal of damage, but the second demon seems to take that attack as an opening to launch a burst of ice straight at Byakko’s side. The beast growls, as does the Wendigo, and Byakko lowers its head, spins, and sprints straight towards its assailant. 

Hibiki’s knees are weak and he’s wildly clicking buttons on his phone. Byakko seems to be on auto-pilot at this point which is fine by Hibiki given his current wild state of affairs. 

Around that time, another Wendigo seems to have entered the scene and crept its way closer without Hibiki realizing. The towering demon is close, its long, dark claws reaching out to sideswipe him and Hibiki wonders if he can bribe Otome not to get royally pissed at him for getting hurt _again_.

Before the claw makes contact with his jaw - probably about to dislocate it honestly - a burst of Agidyne consumes it. The Wendigo dies in one impressive swell of fire, crumbling to its knees before it begins to turn to ash. Hibiki shouts because why the hell not?

“ _Hibiki_.”

Hibiki’s head swings to the left so fast he almost gets whiplash. Across the room, standing at the opposing pillar, is Yamato, holding his phone out on the offense. Cerberus comes bounding up the steps a few seconds later and defensively stops at Hibiki’s feet, letting out a shrill howl.

God he loves this stupid demon. His hero.

The Wendigos perish quickly and Hibiki quickly dismisses Byakko. The demon disappears in a burst and Hibiki collapses to his knees. The adrenaline of the battle now gone, he wheezes for air and drags his nails against the ground for support. Cerberus is still at his side and lightly nudges its nose against his arm. 

“Just a flesh wound,” Hibiki repeats, ignoring the sense of deja vu. Weakly, he looks over at the worrying demon and forces a smile. The demon huffs through its nose and lays down beside him.

Hibiki knows that he has most certainly not escaped death. Footsteps echo loudly in the eerily quiet cavern and Yamato is now at this side. The General’s eyes are dark, cold, and he is dismissing Cerberus with little hesitation. Hibiki counts to five and holds his breath.

“That was the most foolish thing you have done to date,” Yamato reprimands, voice terrifying. 

“I know,” Hibiki whispers, lowering his head, curls falling in his face.

“Are you that fascinated with near-death experiences?” demands Yamato, stepping closer. The laces of his boots are covered in a not-so-attractive blend of dirt and blood. Hibiki winces. “Hibiki. Look at me.”

Hibiki holds his breath again and looks up. Yamato is still glaring, but his expression is wavering. “I’m sorry,” Hibiki says and it sounds like a prayer.

“Imbecile,” Yamato mumbles but it’s losing its venom. “What did you think I would have done if I hadn’t made it here in time?”

Hibiki misses how _sentimental_ that is and instead asks, “How did you know where I was?”

“Your requests for use of company property pingback to me as your supervisor.” He really was dumb. Hibiki winces and he closes his eyes. “Why are you here in the first place?”

“Kinda don’t wanna say.”

“Hibiki.”

“I heard you and Miyako talking. Accidentally. You were talking about the Dragon Stream and she seemed pissed at you for something so I just thought,” Hibiki trails off, fingers digging at the cold earth beneath him. He’s distinctly aware of the fact his hands are bleeding but he simply does not care. _I thought I could fix it for you._

“That’s…” Yamato sighs, and he sounds like he’s about to launch into a speech about something before he falls quiet. The General makes his way over to the glowing pillar and frowns down at the slab. There’s a soft light pulsating from it and Yamato is quick to dismiss it, pressing his palm down hard. The light fades.

Hibiki decides to let go of the last bit of his pride and he flops to the ground. He weakly rolls over so he can at least stare up at the ceiling while he waits for death.

“That explains the demons,” Yamato mumbles but doesn’t seem exactly placated. “How was this activated? It only responds to--”

Hibiki nimbly lifts his hand in the air and wiggles his fingers. “That’d be me.”

Yamato jerks his head to the side and _stares_. “That’s not possible.”

Hibiki huffs despite the shitty situation he’s landed himself in. “Totally is. The dragon told me so.”

“The dragon?” Yamato asks but then realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. “The Dragon Stream showed itself to you?”

“Yup. I feel special,” Hibiki says and he feels his face heating up. Now that he’s saying it aloud, he realizes how freakishly bizarre this entire experience was. “That’s definitely not supposed to happen, though, right? That’s definitely never happened before.”

Yamato looks very uncomfortable all of a sudden. The elegance he usually carries himself with is nowhere to be seen and he’s leaning against the railing of the pillar with a troubled expression. Hibiki decides not to pry - it’s the least he can do.

“It’s starting to become a theme, you know. You saving my ass when I get in over my head,” Hibiki whispers, mindful to raise his voice enough so that Yamato can hear it. “I’m really sorry. It was dumb. I wanted to be useful again and I wanted to help.”

Yamato doesn’t answer. So Hibiki continues.

“You looked so tired and I just. Felt bad, I don’t know. This world was supposed to be perfect. You weren’t supposed to have to keeping carrying the weight of the world anymore. Even as General you’re still constantly responsible for so many things and it’s just - it’s not fair to you. I wanted you to have a normal life and see the world. You know, actually _see_ what makes life worth living and - that’s so selfish of me. So I’m sorry.”

Hibiki realizes it’s the most he’s ever said in one breath before. His eyes close and he chews the inside of his cheek. It isn’t a love confession, nowhere near it, but it feels just as exposing. 

Instead of words, there’s a hand appearing in his line of vision when Hibiki opens his eyes. Numbly, he clasps the hand and gets to his feet. His legs hurt and he’s certain he’s frozen to the core but Yamato’s hand is so warm and it lingers for just a second before it’s gone.

“You’re working overtime this week,” Yamato decides in the flattest of tones. “All reports.”

“All right.” Hibiki knows he’s earned this and he ducks his head, finding his own shoes utterly fascinating. “I’ll make it up to you since I’m alive thanks to you and all, so--”

“Even withouet the Record, the world and the Dragon Stream are programmed to obey one person. Having two active users of it is causing problems to both myself and the surrounding area. As Chief, Miyako possesses most of the Dragon Stream and is unaffected by this. I imagine that the fatigue will continue to wear on me until it consumes me.”

Hibiki’s eyes snap up and catch the strangely serene look on Yamato’s face. “How can you… say that with that face?” Hibiki says and his voice cracks. _You’ll die. You’ll die if this keeps happening. You’re going to die and all you can do is smile like it’s an accepted state of fact?!_ “No.”

“There is no cure and no way to unwield this power. Even if I bequest it to Miyako, there will remain remnants in my data that will continue to wear away at my existence. The Dragon Stream is a bond only truly severed by death.”

“ _No_.” Hibiki seizes Yamato by the shoulders. “No, I’m not accepting that!” His voice is trembling and he feels the corners of his eyes _stinging_ and by god he’s trembling. “We’ll find a way. We always do. We’ll find a solution where nothing bad happens. God damnit, Yamato, I _promise_.”

“Hibiki … you are foolishly selfless and optimist, even now,” Yamato muses and his expression has yet to change. “Perhaps that is why it was only you capable of saving this world.”

“Stop… saying things like that!” Hibiki snaps and he actually shakes the boy in front of him. Yamato blinks, the smile slipping. “I’m not giving up. Not on you. We’re going to fix this and I’m going to - going to show you the world. Just like I promised.”

“Hibiki--”

“Shut up, I’m _not done yet_ ,” Hibiki grounds out and he knows it’s muddy waters he’s traversing but he just doesn’t _care_. “I won’t sleep. I won’t sleep for weeks if it means finding a way to fix this. To fix you. I won’t leave your side I’ll -- I’ll find a way, I promise. I’m not losing you a third time, Yamato!”

Yamato looks positively stricken. The usually sharp General looks out of place and his gaze drifts off to the side. Hibiki’s words echo off the empty cavern and he’s still trembling, still clutching tightly at his friend’s shoulders.

“If you… truly believe that, then I will work alongside you once more. Even if the future is grim, I will remain at your side and assist in finding a plausible solution. You believed in me against all odds, and I will do the same now.”

Hibiki exhales, belatedly realizing he had been holding his breath. Light floods his eyes and he can’t help himself. The boy surges forward the rest of the distance and pulls Yamato into a hug. His arms slide back from Yamato’s shoulders and loop around him. Hibiki’s face buries itself in the crook of Yamato’s neck and shoulder and he just stands there. He just holds him.

Hesitantly, Yamato’s hand comes up and very gingerly begins to tangle in messy black curls. It feels so _safe_ and Hibiki doesn’t move an inch. The General feels rigidly stiff, as if this embrace is one of the few he’s ever had. It makes Hibiki want to cry.

* * * 

Hibiki falls asleep on Yamato’s shoulder on the ride back. The Terminal would have been an easier means of travel but the day apparently wore on them enough not to want to return to the office or experience the jarring and disorienting feeling of light-speed travel.

The JP’s car stops outside Yamato’s apartment. Hibiki stirs, eyes groggily opening. He feels like absolute shit, voice raw from shouting back on the mountain. He’s thankful he isn’t sporting any sprains or bruises this time, but he can’t help but feel just as beaten up.

“Where are…?”

“My apartment,” Yamato answers simply and he gently nudges Hibiki off his shoulder. 

“Oh. Well…. Goodnight,” Hibiki says, drowsy and embarrassed and all sorts of out of whack after earlier. 

Yamato blinks at him, quizzically, and cocks his head ever so slightly to the right. “I was under the impression that, now that you know my current condition, you would refuse to leave my side. Is that not what you said?”

Hibiki wakes up pretty damn fast. His eyes widen and he smiles nervously before nodding. “Okay, so you know me better than myself.”

They get out of the car and it’s cold again. The building they’re standing in front of is admittedly quite impressive. It’s nothing luxurious but it’s better than where Hibiki is living by miles. Yamato doesn’t say a word and he begins to lead them inside, mindful to wait for Hibiki’s sluggish limbs.

Once inside, Hibiki takes a few minutes to get over the whole system shock of the day. The Dragon Stream, his heartfelt plea to Yamato to see things his way, and the fact that he was now standing in the doorway of Yamato Hotsuin’s apartment. The apartment itself is made of clean lines and functional furniture. There’s very little in way of personal touches to it and Hibiki is honestly surprised that Yamato lives somewhere other than his office. But, he figures, in this world, Yamato is no longer Chief and he doesn’t need to be at the office as often as Miyako does.

“If you’re tired, you are more than welcome to rest,” Yamato tells him as he begins to shed his jacket and tie, draping them on the metal coat rack by the door. 

Hibiki watches him like a goddamned vulture and he digs his fingers uselessly into the tender flesh of his palm. In this state of undress, Yamato looks so much younger. His eyes are heavy and the charcoal surrounding his eyes is smudged to all hell, looking less intimidating and more absurd than anything else. Hibiki tries not to laugh. He smiles instead.

“Hm?”

Hibiki finds himself at Yamato’s side without thinking about it. But isn’t that always the case? That he just ends up standing beside Yamato, fighting alongside him, tangled up with him? Hibiki tosses him a tired grin and he reaches out to ever so gently swipe the pad of his thumb along the dark smears under Yamato’s eyes and cheekbones.

Yamato stills, eyes glancing forward, ahead, searchingly.

“Why do you wear this? I never got around to asking you,” Hibiki says softly, swiveling his thumb so that he can squint at the dark smudge. 

“Tradition,” Yamato explains, cooly. “It is a show of power, mostly. Most of the men before me did the same.”

“Ah.” Hibiki figured it’d be a Hotsuin thing. “I’ve never seen you without it.”

Yamato hesitates and then has the audacity to sound _sheepish_ , “Would you like to?” 

“Mhm. I bet you look even more fantastic without it.”

Well fuck, he just said that. Hibiki feels his heart skip a beat and his blood turn to ice. He replays their conversation in his head and then nervously chuckles. Hibiki thinks about running off into the night, retreating, or at least taking his hand back, but he stands there glued to the spot.

“Fantastic?” Yamato looks confused.

“Han….dsome.” Hibiki forces the word out with a nervous giggle, losing all that bravado from the previous weeks. 

“Oh.” Yamato wrinkles his nose. “Thank you.”

Hibiki wants to laugh. He wants to laugh at how Yamato is the only person in the world that would say _Thank you_ to something like that and _not catch on_. Hibiki thinks it’s a saving grace that he doesn’t call him out but. But maybe he wants to. Maybe he wants to hear Yamato accuse him of every single thought that’s plagued him for roughly a month now.

“Yamato?” Hibiki asks, voice barely a whisper.

“Yes? What is it?”

Hibiki’s hand is still on Yamato’s face and he begins cleaning away the charcoal, speck by speck. “The Dragon Stream told me I was able to activate it because of you. Well, not you exactly, but the fact that I was intertwined with the Hotsuin clan. My fate or something.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” says Yamato.

“Mm?” Hibiki’s heart soars and it _sings_.

“You’re the most important person to me,” Yamato answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the fucking _world_. 

The words warm Hibiki to the absolute _core_ and his breath hitches. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to him. He’s certain his eyes are stinging again - that he’s going to cry - and that he’s already smiling like a moron. But he doesn’t care. 

Hibiki’s hand slides away from Yamato’s cheek and very gently brushes Yamato’s hair over his ear. Yamato blinks at him again, but the stiffness from their earlier embrace at Mt. Fuji is gone. Instead, he’s watching with this sort of fascinated look in his eyes and god Hibiki could look into those eyes _forever_.

“Good,” Hibiki says, his words trembling just as much as his hand is that’s resting at the nape of Yamato’s neck. “Because I’m tired of living in worlds where we can’t be together.”

If Yamato catches onto the romantic sentiment behind that confession, he doesn’t let on - that same peaceful look remains affixed to Yamato’s face.

“Yes,” Yamato agrees and his nose is wrinkling again, as if he doesn’t quite comprehend, “But we are together now, aren’t we?”

Hibiki can’t do this anymore. 

“I want that. I want that more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life,” Hibiki says, the words coming out of him like a waterfall. “I want,” he continues, chest nearly flush to Yamato’s, toes scrunching down firmly as he lifts his heels off the ground, “to be yours. Only yours,” his forehead finds Yamato’s, pressing gently, “if that’s what you want, too.”

He can feel Yamato’s breath catch. He can feel it quicken, shallow and quick breathes, and he can feel Yamato stiffening. He can see the way the words work their way into him, unraveling and unfolding before his beautiful grey eyes. 

Yamato’s hand lifts and presses to Hibiki’s chest and for a split second Hibiki’s certain he’s about to be shoved away. But instead, pale, cold fingers tremble and clutch at the fabric of his hoodie. They tighten their grasp and hold steadfast.

“Then…” Yamato says and his voice is quiet, small, uncertain for the first time Hibiki can remember, realization slowly coloring his eyes, “...go ahead.”

It’s all Hibiki needs.

Hibiki’s fingers dig down into Yamato’s shoulder, his neck, and he closes the small distance between them. He’s certain they knock noses at first but he doesn’t _care_ because Yamato’s lips - just as soft as he thought, just as warm as he thought - are pressing against his. They’re pliant and perfect and he can feel Yamato’s breath catch behind them. Hibiki can _feel_ Yamato’s pulse against his lips and he’s certain that Yamato’s hand can feel the thundering of his own heart. So Hibiki remains still, holding the kiss, letting the warmth of it wash over him like a midday rainshower. He lets it warm him down to his toes and his eyes finally slide shut. It’s everything he wanted and more. 

There’s an arm around Hibiki’s lower back a few seconds later and Yamato pulls them flush with one swift motion. Hibiki gasps in surprise against their mouths just in time to feel Yamato’s hand fall from his chest now that it’s squished and cup his right cheek, thumb just under his eye. And then Yamato kisses him back, head angling so he can press harder, firmer, _hungry_ against Hibiki’s mouth.

Hibiki feels himself melt. The slow, reverent pace is gone and Hibiki begins pressing barrages of kisses to Yamato’s mouth. They’re inexperienced and half of them are sloppy and open-mouthed but he’s floating. Yamato meets him each and every time, trying to figure out some sort of pace, growing more and more confident with each smash of their mouths. 

Hibiki thinks he hears his name breathed into the kiss - _Hibiki_ \- and it’s low and nearly feral and it lights up Hibiki’s cells. Hibiki holds on tighter, both arms uselessly wrapped around Yamato’s neck as Yamato’s hand traces his face, his hair, touching and mapping out every single part of him he can reach.

Breathing becomes an issue but Hibiki hardly moves away. In fact, his forehead bumps to Yamato’s once again and he sucks in deep, shaky breaths to try and fill his burning lungs. It isn’t working all too well. But he’s smiling. He feels himself smiling oh so radiantly and maybe he _is_ the Shining One after all.

Yamato’s eyes flutter open and meet his, his breath rugged and so entirely hot. The warmth of it ghosts over Hibiki’s face and Hibiki wants nothing more than to kiss every single inch of Yamato Hotsuin. 

“I’ve never…” Yamato begins, voice low and uncertain. 

“Me either,” Hibiki quietly admits, lips brushing Yamato with each word, “But I’m so glad it was you.”

The confession seems to relieve the temporary anxiety because Yamato relaxes in Hibiki’s hold. Curiously, Yamato kisses him once more, briefly, catching Hibiki’s bottom lip between his own. It feels _so good_ and Hibiki shamelessly makes a little coo of enjoyment.

Yamato breaks the kiss after that, this time pulling away a few inches. His face is flushed and his hair is an absolute mess. It’s the most endearing thing Hibiki has ever seen in his short, multi-world filled life. There’s a wonderful fascination in Yamato’s eyes, sparkling and bright and searching. Hibiki smiles at him, positively certain that his heart is singing loud enough for the world to hear. 

“Let’s go watch movies and fall asleep on the couch together like responsible adults,” whispers Hibiki, hands seeking out Yamato’s. His fingers find homes in the spaces between Yamato’s. 

“... all right.” There’s a smile Yamato doesn’t even try to hide, his gaze curious and full of wonder. “Just because tomorrow is Sunday.”

When Yamato squeezes his hand, gentle as if he’s holding onto something fragile and irreplaceable, Hibiki falls in love all over again. This is where he belongs. This is home.


	10. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which not much happens. 
> 
> the plot will ramp back up in the new few chapters i just wanted to take a chapter and.  
> just appreciate the good life,  
> after the whirlwind of the last few.  
> so enjoy this.  
> eventually this fic will earn it's rating.  
> shakes fist.

A week passes with little to no headway. Hibiki is no closer to finding a cure and it’s becoming disheartening. Thankfully, Yamato isn’t showing any obvious signs of discomfort apart from a constant state of fatigue that no amount of sleep will fix. Hibiki’s certain there’s a solution to this and that if he just keeps trying, pushes himself a little harder, he’ll figure it out. He’s just waiting for that epiphany. In the meantime, he’s been working hard on perfecting the art of the JP’s report. He’s getting better but he’s not a rockstar yet, according to the other Generals. He doesn’t much care. He’s _Yamato’s_ favorite, after all. 

“I think we should go back to Mt. Fuji,” Hibiki says. “Tomorrow morning. It’s Saturday and you don’t have any meetings, right?”

Yamato glances over his shoulder, in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers linger on the third button and he gives the suggestion some serious thought. “If you’re up for it,” he murmurs. “It isn’t fieldwork, so I suppose it’s a loophole.”

“Oh good,” Hibiki laughs and he rolls over, sprawling out like a starfish in the middle of Yamato’s bed. 

It’s warm and he’s gotten used to laying on it for hours over the past week. While he hasn’t exactly _slept_ there yet, he’s had a lot of conversations and bursts of kissing. It’s a good place to be that smells like Yamato and is _way_ too comfortable for its own good. 

“We can meet up at JP’s tomorrow, then,” Hibiki decides and he crosses his arm over his eyes. A tiny yawn escapes him and is muffled by his forearm. “It’s getting late. I should get home and try and get some sleep.”

The clinking of cufflinks echoes in the bedroom and Yamato twists a simple black band in his hair. It’s a cute as hell ponytail and Hibiki peeks from behind his arm. Be still his heart, that’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Around that time, Yamato turns away from the dresser to face Hibiki. His shirt is half undone and his sleeves are unfurled, covering his hands. The charcoal is completely cleaned from his face and he looks _young_. There’s a youthful glow to his eyes and by god he’s _fidgeting_ with his sleeve. It’s a nervousness that Hibiki hasn’t seen in over a week.

“Is something wrong?” Hibiki asks, enough blood in his brain to still pick up on his boyfriend’s trepidation.

“Not at all,” Yamato answers and he stills his hands. 

“Then-”

“Would you care to spend the night?”

Hibiki’s brain short-circuits and he feels like he’s become one with the bed. If this bed becomes his coffin he would hardly care. Blue eyes light up and he sits up, ignoring the bloodrush and temporary dizzy feeling that accompanies it. His eagerness must have looked like hesitation because Yamato is drawing his lips into a terribly thin line. He looks about to rescind the offer.

“Sure,” Hibiki interjects and he hears his heart pounding in his ears all over again. “I mean, yeah, that makes sense. Since we’re going somewhere in the morning. And that totally saves time. And yeah.”

 _And yeah_ , he repeats in his head, glaring down at his own hands. How dumb is he? _There’s also the whole sleeping beside you thing that sounds like a super chill thing to do. But yeah. It’s totally the convenience factor._

It’s easy to miss but Yamato lets go of the breath he was holding. “You’re welcome to borrow anything that looks comfortable.”

“Cool.” Idiot. 

Hibiki hops off the bed and makes his way over to the dresser, cheeks betraying his _cool_ demeanor. There’s a heat to them that is most definitely not stemming from the very idea of wearing Yamato’s clothes, in Yamato’s bed, with Yamato. As quickly as he can, Hibiki peruses the dresser drawers and decides on a simple silk shirt - of course all Yamato has to sleep in are _silk nightshirts_. He wonders if Yamato owns a pair of sweats but decides not to ask - he can just sleep in his boxers. It won’t be weird. It won’t be weird _at all_.

Yamato nods and leaves the bedroom, off to presumably brush his teeth.

Hibiki changes in the meantime. When Yamato doesn’t return after five minutes, Hibiki starts to worry. So he heads out to the living room. And there is Yamato, carefully removing blankets and a pillow from the ottoman in front of the sofa. He’s wearing one of those stupid silk shirts and not much else, the length of the shirt almost completely hiding a pair of black boxers. Hibiki tries not to stare. He doesn’t succeed.

Yamato glances up from his meticulous bed-making to glance over. And like the polite host he is, “Is there something you need?”

Hibiki swings his arms by his sides and heads over. Wordlessly he reaches out to catch Yamato’s hands and shoo them away from the blankets. Yamato blinks at him, puzzled, and Hibiki just laughs. “Yeah. You.”

Yamato is confused with a dash of irritation at having to repeat himself, “Yes? What is it?”

Hibiki laughs again with all the fondness in the entire world. Can someone truly be this dense? Though, Hibiki supposes, Yamato has never had anyone in his entire life to be compassionate towards. While he had Miyako in this world, she isn’t the paradigm of empathy and affection. It’s nothing like a parent, friend or lover. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Yamato’s nose scrunches up. “You’re the guest.”

“And _I’m_ not sleeping on the couch.”

Yamato looks like he’s about to refute that with another riveting round of logic but he falls quiet. It seems to click and the poor General’s face turns a rare shade of red. Hibiki’s heart skips a beat. “I see.”

“Come on,” Hibiki urges and tugs on their hands. Yamato obediently follows, allowing Hibiki to guide him away from the couch and back towards his bedroom.

When they get there, Yamato looks entirely out of his element once more. His eyes are everywhere _but_ Hibiki and his fingers are restlessly toying with the ends of his ponytail. It’s so rare, so _adorable_ , that Hibiki almost forgets the cause of it. Yamato, the fearless head of the Hotsuin clan, is a blushing maiden that has zero experience with relationships and Hibiki is so goddamned _honored_ Yamato is allowing him to see this side of him.

Right. He should be plain. “We’re just sleeping,” Hibiki explains helpfully, taking the far side of the bed. He collapses face first into the pillow and makes an incredibly _lewd_ noise. “Oh my god I love your bed so much.”

Yamato chuckles and the tension seems to fade. Very carefully, Yamato takes the spot beside Hibiki and peels back the covers. “You’re going to suffocate that way, Hibiki.”

“It’ll be a lovely death,” Hibiki coos into the fabric and then cocks his head to the side. From behind messy bangs he peeks at Yamato. “Did you and Miyako ever have sleepovers when you were younger?”

“No,” Yamato says calmly and meets Hibiki’s gaze. “Our rooms were in separate corridors and most of the doors were locked at night.”

Hibiki frowns. “Seriously?” That sucks. “So you’ve never stayed up late looking at stars? Watching movies? Telling ghost stories?”

“I believe we stayed up _quite_ late the other night on the couch,” Yamato corrects and there’s that sliver of a devilish smirk. Hibiki’s face turns _hot_ and he ignores the way his stomach knots in anticipation. Nothing had happened, per say, but the way Yamato is smirking makes them both seem like heathens. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” Hibiki’s eyes wander down to the thin strip of skin along Yamato’s hip. It’s all kinds of distracting. Maybe sleeping in the other room was a good idea. While it’s much easier to control himself around Yamato now that he can kiss him whenever he wants - within reason - there’s still this insatiable need to constantly be _touching_ him. So he reaches out into the darkness, the glow of the streetlights outside the only source of light. 

Hibiki’s fingertips glide along the patch of skin, fingers tracing the divot of a hipbone. It’s just as smooth as his hands, his face, and Hibiki smiles affectionately in turn. There’s so much he still wants to learn about Yamato - what he likes, dislikes, what he thinks of when he sees the ocean, what he dreams of - and he knows that if he doesn’t succeed, he’s going to lose this. But the fear is muted for now. Right now, all Hibiki can think about is how he’s never seen anything as beautiful as the artificial light illuminating Yamato less than a foot away from him.

“If you’re tired, don’t stay awake on my account, Hibiki,” Yamato tells him and it sounds normal but his voice is just a hair _breathless_.

Sleep would be a good idea. He _did_ just reassure Yamato that they’d "just be sleeping" in the bed. Sleep is good for the soul and if they’re going to Mt. Fuji in the morning then they need to be in top shape. Sleep is the _best_ plan, but…

“Can you do something for me?” Hibiki’s throat is arrid. 

“Hm? What is it?”

Hibiki’s fingers give a tiny tug to the hem of Yamato’s nightshirt. “Lay down facing me for awhile?”

Yamato doesn’t question it. After a moment, the weight on the bed shifts and Yamato is on his side, cheek pressing to one of the pillows. His eyes - soft now that they aren’t lined with harsh darkness - blink at him. It almost looks like he’s awaiting his next order. It’s endearing. “Are you sure that everything is all right?” Yamato presses.

“Yup. Everything is great, in fact,” HIbiki answers and brings his hand up to ghost along Yamato’s jaw. His fingers splay just enough so that he can frame his face perfectly, starting at his chin and sweeping back towards his ear. Yamato is a masterpiece. 

Yamato seems to catch on and there’s a twist of his lips into a faint smile. “Do you want a kiss, Hibiki?”

“Yes please,” Hibiki says too quickly, too eagerly, but he just doesn’t _care_.

Yamato chuckles and he takes the hand away from his face. Pale fingers drag backwards, pads of his fingers rising and falling over every knuckle before he clasps Hibiki's tightly in his own. Instead of tilting his head and leaning the fraction close he needs, Yamato pins their adjoined hands down to the mattress on Hibiki’s far side. With a tiny yelp of surprise, Hibiki’s eyes widen and he feels his weight shift so that _he’s_ on his back once more. Yamato looms halfway over him, wisps of bangs that are too short for his hair tie falling down between them.

“Hi,” giggles Hibiki, at a loss for much else to say. 

“I didn’t understand this at first,” Yamato admits, his tone surprisingly gentle. Hibiki just as surprisingly remains silent so that Yamato can continue. “When I saw you again in this world, even before I knew you remembered,” his voice drops to a low whisper, “I yearned for you. I wished for nothing more than to be at your side constantly.”

Hibiki’s heart is singing and he can’t breathe properly. But he doesn’t dare utter a _word_ lest he break this moment. He's already done enough of that for a lifetime.

Yamato’s free hand comes up and traces Hibiki’s cheek. “I admit I… am not the best at these types of situations. It took me some time to analyze what I was feeling. But eventually it made sense to me. Whatever this is, I wanted it without having a name for it. It bothered me that I had no idea how you felt on the matter, but I was willing to wait.” 

Hibiki starts to laugh, eyes shutting and face breaking into a bold smile. “Then gee, if you feel that way, what are you waiting for?”

“...Cheeky brat,” Yamato murmurs, smirk present, before he dips his head down and kisses him.

The kiss is warm and nowhere near as tentative as their first. By now, it’s easily their twentieth and it still feels _just_ as electric. Hibiki sinks even further into the bed and he’s _so glad_ they’re laying down. When Yamato’s teeth snag on his bottom lip Hibiki gasps in surprise. The noise quickly morphs into a pleased groan that borders a moan. Apparently that noise does _something_ for Yamato because he’s squeezing their hands and fully pinning Hibiki down to the mattress.

It’s by far the hottest kiss they’ve had yet and Hibiki thanks every single star for it. His hand that isn’t held down to the bed reaches up and drifts along the back of Yamato’s neck. It’s nice to have so much of it exposed with his hair pulled up like that. 

Yamato’s lips move from his mouth, press to the corner of it, and then trail away along his jaw. When he reaches a sensitive patch of skin just under his ear, Hibiki can’t help the sharp intake of breath that fills the room. Now if _that_ wasn’t lewd he isn’t sure what is.

“You’re breathing heavily,” Yamato notes and any other time it would sound like a _question_ but the intonation of his words speaks otherwise. Yamato is _fully_ aware of what is causing that heaviness.

“Yup,” Hibiki says and he bites down on his lip when Yamato kisses his earlobe, the shell of his ear, the very top of his neck. The press of soft lips against his neck has him choking back a genuine moan and holy shit that _shouldn’t be so sensitive_.

Yamato seems to be on auto-pilot, trusting his instincts and Hibiki’s reactions. His lips make their way down his neck, kisses more insistent, more teeth, more _pressure_. Along his pulse, Yamato lightly _bites_ and hums, just above a whisper, “My Hibiki.”

Hibiki gasps, his hand flying up to tangle in Yamato’s hair, nearly knocking the hair-tie out. Blood rushes south and he can feel every single point of contact. Yamato’s hand in his, Yamato’s lips and teeth on his neck, Yamato’s chest pressing against him as he leans over him and Hibiki is _so thankful_ that Yamato isn’t straddling him because he’s way too turned on from this brief exchange. So much for sleeping tonight.

“Good god, Yamato,” Hibiki whines as he tilts his head back further and twists his fingers in Yamato’s hair tighter. “You.. sure you haven’t done this before?” he jokes and he feels the bastard _chuckle_ against his neck.

“Of course not. No one has caught my eye quite like you,” Yamato reassures him and places a gentler kiss to his pulse before he tips his head back. 

Their eyes meet and Hibiki’s face is far more flushed than Yamato’s. His lips are puffy from biting down on them and he is struggling to catch his breath. Yamato, on the other hand, looks as cool as ever and watches Hibiki like a goddamn hawk. 

“Was that an acceptable goodnight kiss?” Yamato asks and Hibiki _pouts_.

“What do you think, you jerk?” Hibiki’s hand falls from his hair and lightly flicks Yamato’s forehead. “More than acceptable. Great, in fact. You should do it more often.”

Which begs the question… Yamato goes oddly quiet, pensive, and he squeezes the hand he still has pinned down to the bed. “If that’s what you’d like, then you’re free to stay over whenever you please. So long as it doesn’t get in the way of work.”

Hibiki can’t fucking breathe. His emotions take a sharp turn from utter arousal to pure _happiness_. The pout quickly transforms into a smile and he nods as eagerly as possible. 

“Yeah. Yeah let’s do that.”

Yamato smiles, and it’s so positively charming, and he tips his head up to kiss Hibiki’s forehead. Just once. Just softly, and he pulls away and reclaims the spot beside Hibiki, his arm still stretched out over Hibiki, threaded with his. Like this, honestly, it’s almost as if Yamato is _snuggling_ him. It’s adorable and purely accidental but it’s just the way the chips fell and Hibiki is loving every moment of it.

“Night, Yamato. Sweet dreams.”

Yamato makes a noncommittal noise, eyes shutting, and he doesn’t move at all.

* * * 

“Dude. Pull your collar up. For the love of God, I don’t wanna see your hickey.”

Hibiki blinks and then very gently lifts his hand to ghost over the side of his neck. Apparently he hadn’t noticed that the previous night left him with a souvenir. His face burns when he remembers the _bite_ and the absolutely perfect way Yamato took control. It might be safe to conclude that he has an underlying kink or two. 

His earlier adventure to Mt. Fuji with Yamato had produced little results. There had been nothing abnormal and the few hours they were there zero demons showed up. Even after activating the stream the mountain remained eerily quiet and desolate. It was odd, and Hibiki felt defeated more so than usual. Why couldn’t this be easier? Why was life always such a goddamn struggle? Hadn’t they earned their happiness after facing two sets of invaders? This wasn’t _okay_.

“That’s it. I’m having a stroke. I’m dying from embarrassment,” Hibiki says, utter deadpan, the color draining from his face. “It’s too late for me, Daichi. I want you to have my videogame collection.”

“Cut it out,” Daichi complains and lightly shoves at his best friend’s shoulder. “I’m trying to have a normal meal and you’re over there ruining it.”

“I’m sorry that my death has caused you so much inconvenience, Daichi. I also apologize to your ramen.”

“You’re the absolute worst,” Daichi sighs and he returns to shoveling ramen into his mouth in favor of ignoring Hibiki. 

“...On a more serious note,” Hibiki begins again, swirling his chopsticks around in his bowl. It’s probably rude but he’s too fidgety right now to pay proper manners. “Something’s wrong with the Dragon Stream. It’s eating away at Yamato.”

“Wha?!” Daichi drops his chopsticks and swivels his head to the side. “Eating away?! The hell?! Why would it be doing that?”

“Something about it not being programmed to sustain two users? I don’t know. Everything about it confuses me,” mumbles Hibiki and he pokes at a piece of cabbage. “The Dragon wasn’t really helpful. And neither was Yamato.”

“The dragon?” Daichi lifts his hands up, palms facing Hibiki. “You’re losing me here. When the hell did you see a dragon? When did you _talk_ to a dragon?” His voice lowers, suddenly remembering they are at a very public, very loud restaurant. “Seriously?”

“Long story but I kind of,” Hibiki hesitates and then continues, “Went a week ago when I heard something was up. Almost got the crap beat out of me again by some Wendigos. Some dragon appeared and told me I’m marked by the Hotsuin clan. It was quality stuff.”

“Marked,” Daichi repeats and presses his palm to his forehead. “Dude, you know how that sounds, right?”

“That I’m on a hitlist?” Hibiki jests, his smile weak. 

“That Yamato’s been in love with you since, I don’t know, he broke the world for you?” Daichi groans and finishes the task of hiding his face behind his hands. “Why are you so dumb? Why are you _both_ so lame?”

Hibiki goes quiet, allowing Daichi’s surprisingly poignant words to strike him. Yamato hadn’t been surprised when he heard about the mark, informing him confidently that Hibiki was his favorite person. But even if they were just friends at that point, and if Yamato had been yearning for him since the world reset, then… Hibiki’s cheeks burn and he retrieves his chopsticks to shove a carrot in his mouth.

Daichi peeks from behind his hands and tosses Hibiki a suspicious look. “Man, don’t tell you’re finally figuring out I’ve been right all along.”

Hibiki chews loudly.

“I was the one stuck with the guy in that second world, remember?” Daichi mumbles, cheeks puffing out. “It was Hibiki this, Hibiki that. He was sad as hell and grumpier than usual. All he wanted was to find a way to bring you back. I almost think he would have taken that over a world reset.”

Hibiki swallows hard, his heart rising up in his throat. It feels scratchy. “Which is why I’m going to save him. No matter what.”

“Eh…” Daichi looks nervous. “You aren’t… thinking about resetting the world again, right? I mean, the Authority is spread out now and that’s impossible, right?”

Hibiki smiles blithely. “No. I’ll do it without resetting the world. This … is personal. It’s not something regressing the world will fix,” he murmurs. “I wouldn't risk the world for that - other people’s happiness is on the line. But you’d better believe I’d risk anything _I_ had to make sure he’s still here.”

“Dude.” Daichi reaches out and firmly takes ahold of Hibiki’s shoulder. “If you need me, I’m here. I’m not letting you face this alone. Best friends, right? Even if I can’t use the app anymore you’re not going headfirst into this without help. Just lemme be a sounding board or something. I can be useful.” 

And it means so much to him. It truly does. Daichi has been here through it all and he isn’t going anywhere. Daichi means the world to him and he can’t face all this alone, he’s right. Daichi is more than useful - he’s Hibiki’s rock and _best friend_.

Hibiki’s smile grows a tiny bit brighter. “Wanna drive a truck into the Dragon Stream?”

“Oh, screw you, man!”

Hibiki laughs for the first time that afternoon.

* * * 

Hibiki shows up at Yamato’s door after dinner with a small paper bag and an overnight bag. It’s probably presumptuous to show up on his doorstep two nights in a row but Hibiki likes to live on the edge. He knows he’s in the honeymoon stage, that it’s normal to want to see Yamato every single waking moment, but part of him knows that’s a lie. Part of him knows it’s fear that Yamato will disappear when he isn’t looking. It’s fear that if he doesn’t appreciate every single moment he’ll regret it later if he can’t save him.

Yamato opens the door after a few knocks and looks genuinely surprised to see him. Maybe Hibiki should have texted first. 

“Hi stranger,” Hibiki says as he hoists the paper bag up into the air. “I bring delicious presents and my wonderful company.”

Yamato chuckles, the sound exasperated and fond, as he steps away to allow Hibiki to enter. Hibiki does so.

“And if I had been at work? Otherwise occupied?” Yamato asks as Hibiki sets his things down near the couch and plops the paper bag on the coffee table. He wiggles out of his shoes and glances back over his shoulder at the younger male.

“I’d have waited for you to come home,” Hibiki says and he’s pretty sure he’s actually serious.

Yamato sighs and drags his hand back through his hair. “How was your dinner with Shijima?”

“Good!” Hibiki chirps and he sprawls, taking up all of Yamato’s couch. 

Yamato doesn’t make a move to nudge him away and instead leans against the couch. HIs elbows rest against the back of it and he peers down curiously at the messy-haired boy that’s claimed a spot there and his heart, apparently. Hibiki wonders how many things he could get away with. He doesn’t dare test that theory.

“Shall I leave you and my couch alone?” Yamato’s expression is teasing and despite the dark circles under his eyes from fatigue he looks downright _mischevious_. 

“Yamato? What ever are you suggesting?” Hibiki laughs and wiggles his fingers. “I’m innocent. I swear. I’ve never had an impure thought in my entire life.” 

Yamato rolls his eyes but leans forward, dipping over the back of the couch so that he can dangle precariously close to Hibiki’s face. Their eyes meet and Hibiki’s breath catches. 

“Last night would suggest otherwise,” Yamato says and it sends _shivers_ racing through Hibiki.

“Oh…” Hibiki dumbly says and finds his mouth dry and his hands restlessly clenching into little fists. Yamato is still close and _smirking_. “Hey, Yamato?”

“Yes?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if I started calling you my boyfriend to other people, that’d be cool, right?” Hibiki has never felt dumber asking a question in his life, the weak smile plastered on his face, but he needs to know. Needs to confirm that’s exactly what they are and it’s so childish a fear but he wants them to be on equal footing, to completely be in this one hundred percent.

Yamato stares quizzically at him. There’s the faintest brush of lips against his, a murmur of, “Sh” and Yamato leans away and stands back up. His elbows readjust on the back of the couch and he curiously clicks his tongue. “Hibiki.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that not what you meant when you suggested we were together?” Yamato inquires and he pretty much knows the answer.

“...Yeah. Dumb question, sorry. I’ve been spending too much time with Daichi,” jokes Hibiki, his face _burning_ and he finally sits up. The blood rushes from his head and he twists on the couch so that he’s on his knees, pillowing his arms on the back of the couch between Yamato’s elbows. It takes some effort, nudging Yamato’s elbows apart, but he looks so pleased with himself when it works.

“Better question,” Hibiki speaks up again, reaching out to lightly hook his finger in the slip of fabric between the buttons of Yamato’s dress shirt. “Can I get you out of this? And not into a new one?”

It’s bold and daring but that’s Hibiki. 

Yamato processes the question and tilts his head to the side to watch Hibiki closer. “I thought you were a man of action, not just words.”

“Wow,” Hibiki drawls, his grin unmistakable as he brings his fingers - trembling - up to Yamato’s collar to drag him into a kiss. It’s warm and he melts into it, breathing in Yamato as much as he possibly can. “I brought takoyaki,” he says against the kiss. “Let’s eat it before it gets cold?”

Yamato’s gaze positively brightens. 

Even if they were making zero headway in life or death situations, there was always a silver lining. And even if he _doesn’t_ get Yamato out of his clothes that night, he’s content with just falling asleep beside him, knowing that so long as he’s in his arms, he won’t disappear. He’s right here. And Hibiki will dedicate every waking moment to _fixing this_. 

Tomorrow is a new day.


	11. chapter eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which hibiki and yamato visit the hotsuin clan. yamato has news. 
> 
> this chapter ... i don't know how to feel about it.  
> i wanted to focus a lot on hibiki's inner turmoil.  
> and how the fatigue of things kind of got overlooked in the game?  
> anyway, i hope it's to your liking!!!  
> i can't promise when the next update will be but...   
> fingers crossed dear friends.

“Does this qualify as meeting the parents? Because I feel like this is on that level and I should have prepared a lot more.”

Hibiki nervously flips through the various documents he’s brought along for the car ride. The packets of papers are impressive and some detail recent Seal tamperings as well as status update on the newer recruits. Basically? He’s acting the role of Yamato’s secretary and highlighting important information so he can provide his so-called boss the cliffnotes version.

“My parents are long dead, Hibiki,” Yamato says with a calmness that is ill-fitting the subject. “As I mentioned, these are distant cousins and associates of the Hotsuin clan that lead family matters.”

“I know,” Hibiki answers quickly and narrowly avoids a papercut. “But you grew up with them, yeah? And some of them are related to you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

Yamato’s face broadcasts his continued confusion. “Why?”

“I know we’re going there for research and all, but have you ever brought anyone home with you?” It’s a stupid question that’s begging a stupider answer but Hibiki Kuze dares to do it.

“Of course not,” Yamato says as he folds his arms to his chest, nose wrinkling cutely, “Why would I?”

“Just pointing it out. Aren’t they going to find it weird that I’m with you? I work for you and all, but has Makoto ever been with you? Even in the old world?” 

It’s not that Hibiki is nervous. That’d be silly. It’s just that he’s never envisioned a timeline where he’d be meeting the parents of a significant other, let alone one of the most powerful and influential families in all of Japan. Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it. 

Hibiki was born a civilian and lived his days in such a lifestyle. There was nothing inherently special about him save for the ability to quickly make calculated decisions and summon demons. And while Yamato was capable of seeing that supernatural potential - spirit energy, he called it - Hibiki isn’t so sure anyone else is going to understand why the male heir of the Hotsuin clan is shacking up with some trash like him.

So yeah, he’s nervous.

“You’re worrying too much,” Yamato decides and his gaze softens, the confusion melting away. “They have no right to pass judgment on you. Nor do I care if they do. We are here on business.”

Hibiki doesn’t look any less worried. “Yeah, but--”

“You are more than an acceptable partner.”

Hibiki’s face scorches a hot red and he swears he hears the driver snicker under his breath. This is all sorts of embarrassing and he peeks over at Yamato to confirm that the General is indeed saying this with a straight face and calm demeanor. Screw him. How dare him. This is mutiny!

“See, when you say things like that,” starts Hibiki and he slumps in the seat, seatbelt preventing him from fully becoming one with the cushions. He loses his train of thought and instead opts to shove the stack of papers into the middle seat.

After another moment passes, Yamato speaks up. “Are you tired?”

“It’ll pass,” Hibiki reassures him and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t explain that he’s worried because he has no right to complain about being tired when Yamato is literally being eaten up by some supernatural force. Hibiki’s lost the right to complain a long time ago.

“Hm.”

Yamato seems to consider this but ends up letting it slide. It’s just easier that way.

“It’s kind of romantic, though,” Hibiki says, dragging levity back to the conversation. “Seeing your childhood bedroom?”

“Is it?” Yamato chuckles and there’s that _look_ twinkling in his eyes. “You sound like you have ideas.”

Hibiki’s face heats up. “Kissing you? Uh, yeah, obviously.”

Yamato smiles at that and they both return to their respective busywork. The mood the rest of the drive is at least lighter than previously.

* * * 

The collection of mansions is impressive. Hibiki isn’t sure why he expected any less from the Hotsuin family. The gardens surrounding the buildings are just as breathtaking and Hibiki childishly wishes they could come back here under better circumstances. Maybe one day actually do a formal introduction as Yamato’s … whatever he is at that point. Boyfriend? Mate? Partner? Equal? Hibiki still isn’t sure what the proper word is for them beyond boyfriend. It feels like so much more. Boyfriend feels so _childish_ and lacks the heavy bonds that tie them together. 

“Wow, so this is where it all happened,” giggles Hibiki as he allows Yamato to lead them through the maze of buildings to the central one. 

Inside is a large entryway and it takes approximately twenty seconds before someone appears. Part of Hibiki expects a maid or a butler but instead it’s a man wearing clothes similar to JP’s uniforms. He stands tall, a few inches taller than Yamato, and his eyes are just as sharp as him. A distant cousin, Hibiki guesses, given the vague similarity between the two.

“Yamato,” the man greets calmly and Hibiki watches in fascination as Yamato bows his head respectfully. So there _is_ someone Yamato respects more than himself in terms of hierarchy. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yes,” Yamato answers politely and as he straightens, his gaze flicks to Hibiki who is standing a few steps behind him, fiddling with his sleeve. He clears his throat and Hibiki perks up, immediately stepping closer.

“Hibiki Kuze will be accompanying me during my visit,” Yamato explains in such a streamlined fashion that Hibiki isn’t sure if this is a family reunion or a business transaction. 

The man’s eyes fall upon Hibiki and Hibiki is instantly tense. It’s similar to the way Yamato sized him up on that first day - commanding, powerful, superior. Hibiki does his best to stand up straight and remain indifferent but his stomach knots and flips back and forth. The urge to reach out and hold Yamato’s hand is strong but he isn’t sure that’d go over so well. Hell, he isn’t even sure Yamato wants his extended family to know he’s tangled up with a civilian _guy_.

“Let me know if I can be of any help during your stay,” the man says and it’s directed at Yamato and slightly dismissive of Hibiki. But that’s fine, Hibiki figures, because it’s better than any open hostility.

“Thank you.”

And with that, the man bows his own head and stalks off towards the interior of the building. Yamato remains where he is, fishing out his phone to check it. Hibiki just stands there, sort of frozen in time, uncertain what to do next. It was an extremely curt interaction, gone in the blink of an eye, but it feels heavy. Like an unspoken history weighs heavy in the air.

“The library is in the South Wing,” Yamato announces as he deposits his phone back into his pocket. “We’ll head there after we drop our bag off.”

Hibiki nods and tries to ignore the way his heart swells at the mere reference to _their_ bag. It’s sickeningly sweet and probably not nearly as sentimental as Hibiki is making it out to be. 

So they head to wherever it is they’re staying. It’s a few buildings away but the walk doesn’t take long. It’s cold and Hibiki half expects it to begin snowing while they’re walking outside. Thankfully the weather holds off and Hibiki exclaims happily when they reach the next building, the warmth of the indoors intoxicating.

Apparently Yamato is unfazed by whatever the Elders may think, because he guides them towards a bedroom in the far corner of the house. Hibiki realizes belatedly that it must have been Yamato’s childhood bedroom and his stomach twists in anticipation as Yamato pushes open the door. He had only been jesting in the car but perhaps Yamato took it to heart. It’s cute and romantic and Hibiki thinks that a version of himself before Yamato Hotsuin would be gagging.

The room? It’s disappointing. It’s extremely plain with no personal touches. There’s a view of the outside world - the trees, specifically - and Hibiki wonders how many times Yamato sat by this very window watching the world pass him by. He wants to ask but thinks it’s best not to - there’s no way to nicely phrase without sounding patronizing; Hibiki’s very much aware of the lack of a childhood Yamato had and the fact he wasn't like normal children.

Yamato drops the small duffel bag at the base of the bed and heads to the window. It’s nearing sunset and the way the rays cast light on his face, all reds and yellows and pretty oranges seizes Hibiki. Hibiki can’t look away and his heart thunders loudly in his chest. He figured that by now he would get over the newness, the shininess, the butterflies, but apparently they’re still in full force and he’s absolutely _smitten_.

Hibiki’s about to say something stupidly romantic - and cheesy - but Yamato cuts him off. 

“It’s strange,” he starts and his voice is soft, small. “I have memories of both worlds. The one where Miyako did not exist and one where we grew up side-by-side.” He frowns, eyes narrowing at the glass - his own reflection. It’s strangely fitting for the moment. “I’m aware that my first set of memories are more organic, but…”

“It gets hard to tell,” Hibiki answers for him and he lowers his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”

Yamato nods, slightly, and then turns to face Hibiki properly. “It’s a shame that in no set of memories do I meet you sooner.”

Hibiki’s face turns pink and he lifts his hands into the air. “H-hey! Don’t you dare start that cheesy stuff when we still have research to do.” He pouts, then. “And besides, we’ve met now. We have time to make all the memories.”

Or do they do goes unspoken but not at all unimplied. 

Yamato smiles, and it’s so fragile, and he reaches out to run his fingertips along Hibiki’s cheek. The touch feels safe and Hibiki finds himself closing his eyes without his permission. 

“Stay by my side, Hibiki Kuze,” says Yamato and the curl of his fingers, the hitch in his breath, the angling of his body, it sounds more romantic than _I love you_ ever could.

“Always,” Hibiki whispers and his hand finds Yamato, fingers interlocking.

* * * 

A few hours in the Hotsuin library doesn’t yield much in the way of information to Hibiki’s chagrin. There’s no record of an incident like this. There’s very little literature about the Dragon Stream itself. Most of the books contain reports and information on ancient seals and demons. Hibiki suspects there might be something more to those Seals, that one might provide the answer, but he’s too tired to read further. It’s almost dinnertime and he’s already dozed off once or twice on top a stack of books. Yamato wasn’t too pleased.

So with a heavy heart, Hibiki agrees to attend dinner with Yamato and a few of the clan members. 

And that’s when things get _insanely_ awkward.

It’s going well at first, Hibiki staying deadly silent in fear of saying something embarrassing or unworthy. He eats his food and nods when he ought to, smiles when he should. Yamato drawls on about important JP’s and demon information and the clan members seem engaged. All things considered, it’s boring as hell but Hibiki imagines that must just be life for someone of Yamato’s status.

Hibiki wonders if Yamato is going to tell them the situation entirely, if he’s going to explain why he’s here besides reading up on Seals. Hibiki wonders if they’ll ask about _him_ directly.

His answers come in the most unexpected way.

“I’m leaving JP’s by the new year,” Yamato says cooly, calmly, and the tension in the room can be cut with a knife.

Hibiki tenses up and tosses Yamato a sidelong, _confused_ look. Where did that come from? Yamato had never mentioned that to him? Ever? If he was just going to lose JP’s then why did he become a General in this world? It made little to no sense.

“What is the reason for this?” the man from earlier - the sharp looking man - asks while the man and woman at the other side of the table murmur under their breaths.

“I am leaving the clan. I no longer wish to be bound to serve this country.”

There’s a deathly silence and Hibiki almost chokes on his own spit. _Wholy shit_ Yamato had been serious when he mentioned tossing away his responsibility and exploring the world? Seriously?

“This is rather sudden.” The man doesn’t look highly pleased. “It is good that your Sister has more common sense,” he says and it sounds so scathing and cold and _derisive_. “Again, I ask, what is the reason for this decision?” 

Yamato is smiling pleasantly but it’s that same wicked little smile he got when facing demons, when taking on enemies. It’s that same haughty expression that drives Hibiki mad for all different reasons. 

“I wish to stand as true equals with Hibiki Kuze. I will be visiting the stretches of this world that this family has sworn to protect,” Yamato explains and his eyes flit over to Hibiki and quotes, “wherever the wind takes us.”

 

Hibiki thinks he might die from how awkward this all is. It’s one thing to say such embarrassing things to Yamato, to each other, but this is a family of groomed leaders that put merit and ambition before petty emotions. His stomach twists and he feels the shape of a target appear on his forehead. He’s going to be assassinated in the middle of the night, he just knows it.

“What?”

There’s a deafening boom and the sharp man’s eyes narrow dangerously so. “You’re allowing a mere civilian to tempt you away from your duty? Your destiny?”

“Nonsense,” Yamato answers just as sharply, quickly, and Hibiki worries because there in fact knives on this table, “He is no mere civilian. His spiritual power far surpasses yours.” 

There’s a wicked glint to Yamato’s eyes and HIbiki tries to see if it’s possible to melt into a chair. If his atoms vibrate in such a way maybe he can become one with it and forget the fact that Yamato just claimed _he_ was stronger than a member of the Hotsuin clan. To his face. God save them all.

“That’s enough, Yamato,” the man snaps. “It is one thing to bring street trash here, but to sit here and besmirch your own name and throw out such wild accusations…”

Hibiki wants to get to his feet and exit stage left but thinks it may do more harm than good at this point. His ears are burning and he wonders if this is all true or if Yamato is playing damage control in the event that the Dragon Stream consumes him. Would it be less shameful to run off with a “civilian” than it would be to be destroyed, deemed unworthy, by the very power that the Hotsuin clan protects? It’s a hard call.

“Leave in the morning,” the man concludes, anger teeming under the surface.

Hibiki imagines it takes a great deal of restraint not to start shouting. Yamato probably could have handled this in a better way, but the emotional intelligence of his boyfriend never was the best. Still, leaving in the morning is problematic. He hasn’t finished combing through the hundreds of books. They haven’t gotten their answer yet. Hibiki’s gut drops and panicked, he looks back over to Yamato. 

“Of course,” Yamato scoffs and he finally looks over at Hibiki, gaze as determined and confident as ever. “This visit was a mere formality.”

There’s daggers being sent his way and Hibiki draws his shoulders up high, trying to make himself as small as physically possible. If he does that maybe he won’t see him. Maybe if he does that this awkwardness will fade away.

Yamato rises from his seat with an air of elegance. Hibiki can’t help but admire him for it. Even in the most stressful situation Yamato is unruffled. 

Hibiki follows his lead and quickly stands. Yamato doesn’t say another word and leaves the table. Before Hibiki follows, he bows his head respectfully, face on fire, and then scampers away as fast as he possibly can.

* * * 

“What the _hell_ was that?”

Hibiki is angry and he doesn’t know why. Hibiki feels his temper consume him and his hands ball into tiny fists. Yamato remains unfazed, standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom. His eyes watch Hibiki, analyzing him, soaking in every single aspect of his expression. Is he trying to understand? Is he strategically planning his next move? For some reason, Hibiki feels a tad betrayed.

“You’re upset,” Yamato settles on and the haughtiness finally tapers off. “...I have my reasons for my rashness, I assure you.”

Hibiki bites his bottom lip and tries to quell the anger that’s rooted in his stomach. “You want to try and explain or should I go for a walk before I explode?”

Yamato chuckles but it lacks any mirth. “Your offer to do something for me. To travel the world by my side so that I can truly be free,” he explains, “is something that has not left my mind. Part of me wonders if it is running away from the burden of my birth, but I think perhaps it is fine to be selfish in this case.”

Hibiki tries to be mad. He really, really tries, but he can’t find it in his heart to. Yamato’s staring down the barrel of a gun and he’s just tied a rock to his ankle, teetering on the edge of a dock to top it all off. If the Dragon Stream doesn’t kill him then he’ll have completely turned his back on his family, his name, his birth.

But isn’t that what he wanted? Isn’t that what he decided upon in those final days before they regressed the world?

“Are you… sure that’s what you want?” Hibiki asks, voice small. “JP’s was your life in that first world. I know it’s different now, but…” _Can you really give up that passion so easily? So decidedly?_

“You… don’t seem happy about my decision,” Yamato says instead, nose wrinkling as confusion stretches over his features. 

“I’m just confused,” Hibiki admits and looks to the floor, the moon casting shadows that look strangely like ghosts. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I won’t,” Yamato assures him but Hibiki starts speaking again. 

“Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but I don’t want you to wake up one day and hate me. You -- You only had these thoughts because of me, right? If we hadn’t met,” Hibiki hesitates and then just shuts up all together. It’s selfish to say that, it’s conceited to think that, but Hibiki feels guilty. He’s never felt special, he’s never been overly liked by anyone, so the magnitude of what Yamato plans to do scares him. It scares him because it’s so monumental.

“Hibiki,” Yamato says firmly and he crosses the short distance between them. With a surprising gentleness, Yamato reaches out and tips his chin up. Their eyes meet and Hibiki fights back the urge to laugh and cry all at the time same time. “The day where I regret meeting you will never arrive.”

“Yamato,” Hibiki says, voice cracking and he winces at how terribly weak he sounds. “I’m not special. I’m really not. Why are you…”

Yamato laughs and it echoes in the quiet room. His thumb traces Hibiki’s bottom lip and his eyes never lose their fond glow. “Perhaps not in this world, not to the same degree as the previous,” he agrees and then the but comes, “But again, you are my most important person. I will gladly give everything away to stand by your side. I used to believe that happiness could only be obtained through hardwork and dedication. I see now that… there’s another kind of happiness. One that can’t be put into words. And I wish to continue exploring the potential of that with you.”

Hibiki’s knees feel weak and he can’t help himself. He jerks his face out of Yamato’s grasp and then slumps so that he can bury his face properly into Yamato’s shoulder. Weakly, hands reach up to cling to his arms and he cries.

For the first time since the world went to shit that first time, Hibiki Kuze cries.

For the first time since he became a hero and saw the deaths of his friends on his phone Hibiki Kuze allows the weight of the world to hit him - all those hours and sleepless nights, all those tears and all that bloodshed. Hibiki Kuze lets it out. 

So he cries.

Yamato’s arms eventually come up to embrace him. 

When Hibiki’s sobs come to their natural end he risks glancing up at Yamato. Yamato, who has been standing here patiently the entire time. Yamato, who is giving up his name. Yamato, who reset the world to bring him back. Yamato, who risked his own existence - destroyed his own existence - to save him. 

“I must look gross,” Hibiki says with a very weak and strained laugh. He lifts up his sleeve to rub at his tear-soaked eyes and cheeks.

Instead of answering him verbally, Yamato cups his cheek and wipes away tears. Instead of words, Yamato leans in and kisses him firmly. It’s better than words. It’s filled with all the affection, all the things Yamato could never dream to speak aloud. It’s a kiss that steals Hibiki’s already labored breath and makes him want to start crying all over again. Hibiki thanks every single deity that it hadn’t been a messy cry.

“I’m not giving up,” Hibiki whispers against the kiss, hands clinging to the front of Yamato’s shirt. “I’ll do anything to keep you here.”

And he will. He will go to the ends of the Earth five times over if it meant keeping Yamato Hotsuin by his side. He’d never regret a second of it.


	12. chapter twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> explicit content tag. yeah. yup.  
> this is a very pointless chapter.  
> and by that i mean it's what you heathens have been waiting for.
> 
> honestly i needed this after my work schedule.  
> woe is billable hours.  
> anyway, please enjoy this brief break in the "PLOT"  
> for your obligatory bang.

A cold sweat that clings like a second skin is the first thing Hibiki notices when he wakes up. The second is that he’s sitting upright with his heart pounding out of control. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he’s awoken from a particularly nasty nightmare. It’s not uncommon nowadays after the three weeks of hell he had gone through. It’s never memories of specific invaders that appear in his mind. It’s far worse. Fires lick at his limbs, long claws of _demons_ gauge into his flesh. More recently? It’s disjointed dreams that result in the untimely and gruesome death of one Yamato Hotsuin.

It’s a tossup which dream it was this time this forced him out of an otherwise restful night’s sleep. Apparently he’s not discreet. The stirring of a body beside him is unmistakable. Great. His restlessness is contagious.

“Is something wrong?”

Where does he start?

“Sorry – it’s nothing.” He even surprises himself with how _calm_ his voice is. The only tell is the slight breathless quality underpinning his answer

“Mm.”

Three weeks and an intimate work schedule tells Hibiki that _that_ is not a convinced noise. As if to confirm such suspicions, Yamato sits up, sleep still clinging to his eyes even as he begins pinching the bridge of his nose to dispel it.

“Guess I’m nervous about being the next assassination of the Hotsuin clan,” jokes Hibiki and it really doesn’t sound that lighthearted.

That does the trick because Yamato frowns. The looks not sharp but it’s definitely _something_. “It would not benefit them,” he says and then goes on to add, “It is unlikely that they view you as the root cause of my departure.”

Hibiki doesn’t feel any better. “You really think they believe that?” What was said at dinner goes without repeating.

There’s no talking him out of this one. At least, not tonight. Yamato sighs again and peels back the covers that have perfectly pooled in his lap. A flash of panic strikes Hibiki and he’s unreasonably worried for a hot second as Yamato gets out of bed. Hibiki is a reasonable person, of course, but apparently all of that goes out the window whenever the topic of _Yamato_ enters his mind.

“I haven’t showed you the garden yet,” Yamato says as he looks back over his shoulder at HIibki. The room is dimly light and it’s a tad difficult to make out any of his features – whether he’s calm or mildly irritated over his sleep being interrupted. His words apply balm to the itch.

So they head outside through the small door in the corner of Yamato’s childhood bedroom.

The garden is just as dark as the bedroom was. The moonlight is doing a decent job of at least illuminating the _trees_ and small fountain, but save for that it’s _dark_ and the irrational fear that there’s an assassin hiding in the bushes seizes Hibiki once more. He needs to get a grip. And fast.

“This reminds me a lot of JP’s,” Hibiki says, at a loss for anything else remotely conversational. 

They find a spot on a bench not unlike the aforementioned JP’s garden. It’s a lot more ornate – the entire garden – and Hibiki can’t help but wonder _just_ how much wealth is tied up with the clan. A family responsible for the protection of Japan must be _flush_. Yamato was never a showy person by nature so Hibiki just _assumes_ he’s wealthy, but he’s never shown advice of it. This is as concrete of proof as he’s going to get. And that’s fine.

“Yes,” Yamato says softly and he crosses an ankle over the other. “I imagine the original building was modeled after this land.”

“Did you guys take a part in the construction of the Diet Building, then?” 

The lore behind the organization has always seemed to allude him. He doubts it’s anything _too fascinating_ , given the purpose and history of the organization, but maybe there are a few hidden factoids amongst the mess that would be worth learning and listening to. Something about dragons or demons. 

“A considerable donation, yes,” Yamato answers with a twinkle of amusement present in his eyes. “How else do you think it was possible to coordinate the underground construction?”

“Right,” laughs Hibiki and his hands uselessly interlace in his lap. 

Although only a few minutes have passed he’s considerably more relaxed. It’s amazing how a change of scenery and _any_ topic of conversation with the General can ease his nerves. It’d be a patented secret if Hibiki wasn’t so damn _obvious_ about his feelings.

“Hey…” begins Hibiki as he rises from the bench. His hands swing at his sides and just a smidgen of mischief colors his expression. Yamato merely quirks a brow as if to say _go on_. So Hibiki does. “We’re usually in the city, so we don’t really ever get to see the stars,” he sidles over to a small patch of grass and the _flops_ down, “so let’s star-gaze.”

Simple and childish – just like Hibiki.

“You have an interesting fascination with laying in the grass,” Yamato muses but gets to his feet anyway.

There’s something tragically beautiful about the General when he’s not wearing a uniform and is laying in the grass like the teenager he is deep down. There’s years of hardship etched on his face and bags under his eyes that could easily be written off as a badge of the job. But they’re not. The cold, hard truth is that the burden of his birth is the exact reason why his skin is paler, his movements slower, his eyes duller. Yamato hides it well and Hibiki imagines it’s just all part of the years of training. Yamato carries the anguish with a grace rarely matched and while Hibiki thinks he _should_ be envious of it, he knows he has no reason to be. Such a cruel fate should never be envied.

“Is it kind of masochistic of me to be looking at the stars and trying to find constellations?” Hibiki wonders when Yamato is sitting beside him. The General hasn’t opted to lay down – not quite yet – but he is giving Hibiki his undivided attention.

“Perhaps,” Yamato answers and there’s a stifle of a chuckle. “Which ones do you know?”

“A few?” HIbiki guesses and then closes his eyes, heat radiating in his cheeks. “… Not many. I never was good at that stuff.”

“School,” Yamato corrects him, a twist of his lips that looks far too good given the circumstances. “What are your marks, HIbiki?”

“That’s personal,” Hibiki says with a huff and he’s glad his eyes are closed so he can reel in his feigned, affronted look. “I’m not failing. That’s Daichi’s job.”

He ignores the fact that Daichi, in fact, had much better grades than him right before he left school to work at JP’s. Hibiki ignores the fact that grades don’t matter and that he isn’t slated for University or work as a salaryman. Yes, he ignores it in favor of cracking an eye open to peer over at his boyfriend.

“Hmph,” is all Yamato says in response and he turns his attention back to the starry sky.

“…Hey,” Hibiki begins again after a few more minutes of silence pass between them. “What’s the next step?”

Yamato doesn’t answer at first. The General’s eyes remain affixed to the glittering gems in the sky and his lips part, as _if_ to speak, but no sound comes out. Hibiki almost asks if Yamato actually heard him. In the end he doesn’t need to because Yamato reaches out into the air, fingertips faintly glowing. It’s a beautiful color – greens and blues and blips of purple, wispy and gorgeous – and Hibiki is instantly captivated.

“Show off,” Hibiki admonishes with a quick laugh. Jealousy isn’t a nice look.

“I still have normal control over the Dragon Stream,” Yamato explains, watching as the light glows from his hand, faint and _buzzing_. “Eventually, this power will weaken. At that time…” He trails off, nose wrinkling, and a tangible heaviness fills the air.

“Right.” Hibiki doesn’t need to ask for clarification.

The glowing continues – a testament to _life_ – and Hibiki can’t help but laugh at it all. How a power so beautiful, so hypnotizing can be so deadly? It’s beyond him. 

“So, besides kicking the crap out of Star Monsters,” Hibiki begins and he can’t help but grin at the way Yamato’s brows furrow at the nickname, “what else can you do with it?”

“A variety of things,” Yamato explains. “Most of the use comes with Seals and the supernatural energy tied to geographic areas. Think of it as an additional sense.”

“What does it feel like?”

It’s a bold question and Hibiki knows he’s probably too curious for his own good. Hibiki doesn’t miss the way Yamato smirks, gentle at first, but then confident and _vibrant_ after a few more seconds. “Would you like to find out, Hibiki?”

The smokiness to his voice sends shivers down Hibiki’s spine. There’s a dryness to his throat that sets in without his permission all of a sudden. Yamato Hotsuin is too hot. That’s all there is it to. Restlessly, Hibiki’s fingers dig into the pair of sweats he wore to bed, frantically trying to work out the sudden tension in his body before he embarrasses himself for the millionth time.

“Do I want to find out?” Hibiki repeats, his words slow and steady despite the rapid thrumming of his heart in his chest and his throat. “That sounds like quite the offer!”

“It is,” Yamato answers easily enough. 

Without missing a beat, the heir to the Hotsuin clan leans over and presses his fingertips – bright and warm and beautiful – along the curve of Hibiki’s jaw. Little invisible sparks dance across his face and set him ablaze. It feels like stepping outside on a sunny day, the warmth rushing over you, the sun kissing your skin. It feels safe and comfortable and pleasant. It feels heady and consuming and _dangerous_.

“How does it feel?” Yamato has the audacity to ask, voice barely above a whisper. He’s close, so close, and Hibiki doesn’t remember when he _got so close_. But there he is, warm lips against his ear, waiting for an answer, hanging on his every word. 

“Great,” is the best Hibiki can come up with, eyes fluttering shut as another tremble rakes through him. He clutches at his sweats all the tighter. “It feels wonderful.”

“Ah.” There’s a twinge of amusement in Yamato’s voice as his fingers glide along his jaw and then back into his hair. It feels even better there – like a warm spray of water from the shower – and Hibiki easily tilts into it. This is heaven. “I can see that,” Yamato adds with a low chuckle.

“You just wanted to hear me compliment you,” Hibiki laughs. 

“Perhaps.”

Yamato’s fingers continuing brushing through his hair until they fall away. Missing the intoxicating warmth, Hibiki opens his eyes and wrinkles his nose. “Why’d you stop?” he asks without even thinking about how stupidly needy that sounds.

“I was growing tired of simply touching your hair,” is all Yamato says before he presses a palm to the ground beside Hibiki and his other to his shoulder.

Moments later, Hibiki is pinned down to the grass. Bright blue eyes stare up at his boyfriend, surprise coloring the. He was growing tired of touching his _hair_. The words send a wave of heat straight through him, down his limbs and settling right below the belt. 

“I can feel your magic,” Yamato tells him as he leans over, hair framing his face and pooling off his shoulders as he straddles him. To emphasize his point, he brushes Hibiki’s hair back over his ear. “It’s responding to my own,” he explains, a fascinated hunger to his voice that Hibiki has never heard before.

“C-can you now?” Hibiki laughs, wincing at his own stutter. God, why does he turn into the most embarrassing piece of work around Yamato?

“Yes.” Yamato chuckles again, this time with his lips mere inches from Hibiki’s. “I’m quite fond of it.”

Hibiki melts when Yamato kisses him after such an earnest compliment. The kiss feels like fire – consuming and powerful and everything he’s always imagined Yamato _to be_. Hibiki wastes no time curling his hands up and into Yamato’s hair. He doesn’t care if he makes a mess of it – it’s the middle of the night, he’s in love, and this perfect person is willing to throw everything away to be with him, to be _them_ , to continue to grow together. It’s all kinds of beautiful. 

“Yamato,” Hibiki breathes against his mouth, shivering as he dives in for another desperate kiss.

“Yes?”

Yamato’s lips find his jaw, his neck curiously, kiss down along it as warm power and light bleed into Hibiki. It’s probably embarrassing that he’s already half-hard from this, but it’d be even more embarrassing if Yamato noticed it first. Awkward as hell, Hibiki clears his throat and lightly taps at the back of his boyfriend’s head.

“Is something wrong?”

“…You’re uh – it’s really good,” Hibiki explains. When he’s met with a confused few seconds of blinking he knows that the point hasn’t sunk in. Target missed. “… _Really good_ ,” he emphasizes once more, squirming slightly beneath him. 

“I do not see how that’s a bad thing?” Yamato murmurs, perplexed. He cups Hibiki’s cheek and meets his gaze. “Explain.”

“Yamato, oh my god,” Hibiki laughs, his face scorching hot and his toes curling. “I’m not explaining _that_ to you. You’re a super genius, I refuse to believe you can’t read between the lines on this one, Chief.”

Yamato looks irked for a second, but slow realization dawns on his features. He blinks at Hibiki in silence for a few more seconds. And then his hand slips from the ground to Hibiki’s hip and then _jesus Christ it’s_ right on his crotch, hovering and then pressing down firmly, palm warm and glowing and _fuck_. Fuck he’s seeing stars.

“H-holy shit,” Hibiki chokes out, his head tipping back. He barely squashes the urge to arch off the ground. 

For how innocent and shy and naïve Yamato can be, apparently physical pleasure and touching below the belt is not part of that equation. Apparently he’s a god damn heathen when he puts his mind to it. 

Instead of asking if it’s satisfactory, which Hibiki dazedly is expecting, Yamato just presses down a bit harder and then squeezes. He’s feeing him out and it’s so unbelievably _good_ even through two layers of soft cotton. The realization they’re doing this – for the first time – in a garden where anyone could walk in, could see, is lost to Hibiki for the moment.

“Yamato…” Hibiki all but whines, biting his bottom lip in shaky pleasure as he continues slowly massaging him over his sweats.

“You sound wonderful like that,” Yamato praises, tipping his head up to kiss the shell of Hibiki’s ear. “I’m glad.” 

“Jerk…” Hibiki almost laughs, voice falling off into a sharp moan as Yamato squeezes him and drags his fingers from the base to the tip. “I’m not going to tell you your business,” he begins, arching as Yamato presses harder, “but I really don’t wanna… have to wash these sweats in the middle of the night…”

Yamato chuckles – the sound is like sweet molasses – and he glides his hand up to the waistband of his sweats. Seconds later he’s under it and in Hibiki’s boxers and then _dear god_ Yamato is curling his smooth, perfect fingers around his already aching cock. Hibiki isn’t sure if he’s using the Dragon Stream anymore, but he just doesn’t _care_. No one’s touched him like this before, no one’s ever thought he was beautiful or made pretty noises. It’s overwhelming in every single way.

“I adore you,” Yamato tells him into his ear.

Hibiki absolutely _trembles_. He tries to stifle the hot moan that’s spilling from his lips but it’s so difficult with Yamato squeezing tightly and dragging his fist up along his shaft. It’s tight and soft and rough all at once and Hibiki wants nothing more than to buck into it. 

“Please…”

“Please what, Hibiki?” Yamato laughs again, kissing his cheek and then his eyebrow as his hand stills. 

The absolute worst. “I—” He can’t quite get himself to say it. Instead, he rolls his hips forward and whines at the feeling of friction from Yamato’s palm. A brazen brat until the end, it seems.

Yamato seems utterly amused, even as he begins pumping him once more. The tip of his nail presses just under the head and then drags down to the base, feeling out the smooth edges and veins. Apparently that’s enough to drive Hibiki _wild_ because he’s biting his lip so hard it bleeds. 

And then he comes in the most embarrassingly short handjob to ever exist in the history of time. Hibiki’s convinced he just broke some sort of record. His eyes screw shut and his orgasm washes him over with the finality he’s been craving for _months_. Yamato just did. Yamato _just got him off_. Yamato has his _cum_ on his fingers and he’s wiping it off on the grass and if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever seen…

“Wow…” Hibiki breathes out, cheeks red and glowing as his chest rises and falls rapidly. “Um – sorry for the lack of warning?” he laughs, out of breath.

“It was not a surprise,” Yamato snorts, gaze flicking back up to him as he inspects his hand to make sure the remnants of Hibiki’s orgasm are gone from his hands. 

“Mm.” Hibiki can’t quite argue with that. Instead, he drops his head back down and stares up at the stars. He’s so deliriously happy, so _sated_ , that he can’t even begin to believe that just happened. It was over far, far too quickly. 

“Shall I carry you back to bed, Hibiki?” Yamato asks, voice dripping with delight. 

“Probably. My legs feel like jello,” Hibiki says with a cheeky grin as he looks back at him. Yamato is just about to hoist him up into his arms, but before he can make good on that promise, Hibiki tugs at the front of his shirt. With surprisingly little effort, Hibiki manages to tug Yamato back down on top of him and into a warm, reverent kiss. Even with how exhausted he is from his own orgasm, there’s a nervous energy deep inside of him that just wants to keep going. One kiss isn’t enough. Ten kisses aren’t enough – he needs to feel Yamato entirely. 

“This is not bed, Hibiki,” Yamato reminds him, words warm and washing over his lips with ease.

“I know,” he laughs and tangles his still trembling hands into Yamato’s perfectly soft hair. He tilts his head to the side, mouthing kisses along his sharp features all the way to his ear. Once there he presses a lingering kiss, tongue flicking out to outline the shell of it. Yamato isn’t the only tease.

Yamato’s fingers tighten against his sleeve and that’s all Hibiki needs to reassure him that he’s doing something right. With renewed confidence, Hibiki trails his lips to Yamato’s gorgeous throat, mindful not to strain too much lest he start cramping or something silly and mood-breaking. 

When Yamato’s breath hitches, Hibiki feels heat rush through him all over again. Surprised at his own resilience and stamina, he kisses Yamato’s neck harder. He hasn’t exactly tried to get off back-to-back before but it seems plausible given how effortless his first orgasm was.

But that’s not the point. Nervously, Hibiki’s fingers slip from Yamato’s back towards his hips, slipping under the soft material of his shirt. His skin is on fire and honestly that’s the best compliment ever.

“Is this okay—” Hibiki begins but he’s cut short when Yamato squirms – he’s probably ticklish or surprised – and really, the squirming is fine but what _really gets him_ is the fact that the squirming results in Yamato all but grinding down against him. “O-okay,” Hibiki repeats, voice clipping as the heat and friction has him getting hard all over again. The mere fact he can _feel_ how worked up Yamato – the usually stoic and cool Chief – is sends electric trills through him.

“Hibiki…” Yamato sounds nearly feral, like he’s a spool coming undone, as he twists his head and lands a hungry kiss on Hibiki’s mouth. He doesn’t let up. It’s full of lips and teeth and desperation as he holds Hibiki’s face with a grip tight enough to hurt under different circumstances. Right now it’s just absurdly hot.

“Mm?” He tries to answer, just tries to be the brat Yamato knows he is, but it’s drowned out by Yamato’s mouth and by a hesitant roll of Yamato’s hips down against his own. Christ. It’s _way_ too good. Why is dry-humping so _good_?

Yamato seems amendable to that idea, because he finds one of Hibiki’s pretty hands and laces their fingers together. He brings the adjoined appendages up and above Hibiki’s head and then _thrusts_ down against him. A low moan bursts from Yamato as he squeezes Hibiki’s hand and does it again, and again.

The fact that Yamato is losing control, is letting instinct overtake him and is messily rubbing himself down against him is ludicrously hot. Hibiki feels himself begging for more, leg shifting to allow for more contact, more heat, more _pressure_.

That seems to do the trick, because Yamato grips his hand with such force that Hibiki’s almost afraid he’s going to break the damn thing. Yamato kisses the corner of his mouth and moans lowly, huskily, hips jerkily caging Hibiki down.

“Yamato, I…” If he comes for a second time before Yamato comes once he’s going to actually kill himself.

Thankfully, Yamato seems to beat him. There’s another erratic snap of his hips forward before Yamato _bites_ at his bottom lip, hips stilling. The bite – good god the possessiveness and desperation of it all – is enough to send Hibiki over the edge for the second time that evening. 

Catching his breath is harder than he thought. All Hibiki can feel is the tingling of his limbs and the warmth shooting through him. All he can hear is Yamato’s shaky, labored breathing. All he can touch is Yamato’s soft hair and warm face as he tilts his head to kiss Yamato’s eyebrow. “That…” Hibiki tries to say.

“I love you,” Yamato breathes out instead, hand squeezing Hibiki’s as he tilts his head again and presses an absolutely _trembling_ kiss against his mouth.

Hibiki hadn’t been ready for that. He hadn’t been _prepared_ for the onslaught of emotions hearing that brings. True, he had surmised Yamato felt that way, but hearing it so affirmatively, so desperately, almost brings him to tears.

“Yamato…” His hand tightens its hold against the other’s. “Geez… are you trying to make me cry _again_ tonight?” he laughs, voice shaky, nearly cracking. He isn’t even joking.

“Mm.” Yamato chuckles, almost, as he tips his head back enough to inspect the flushed expression of the messy-haired boy beneath him. It’s a work of art. “Perhaps.”

“Jerk…” Hibiki huffs and gives their hands a little swing before he looks to the side and murmurs, “I – love you, too. You know.”

Saying the words is harder than he thought. He’s thought them plenty, puzzled and ached over them enough for a lifetime, but saying them to Yamato when he can hear them, appreciate them, _feel them_ vibrate against his chest is just so different. It’s so _much_. Love is crazy.

“I know,” Yamato tells him and kisses his temple, his aptitude and comfortableness with physical affection still mind-boggling. Hibiki could die happy in this moment. He really, truly could.

Still -- one moment Hibiki’s laying in the grass and the next he’s being hoisted up like a feather into the safest and warmest arms he’s ever felt. Yamato carries him with ease and grace back into the bedroom and closes the door to the garden with a jerk of his hip. It’s remarkably impressive.

Once at the bed, he sets Hibiki down and takes a seat beside him, mindful to begin peeling off his now soiled clothing. He heads to their suitcases and fetches them both a clean pair and offers them to Hibiki with little to no fanfare. 

“You likely will sleep well tonight,” he says, palm smoothing Hibiki’s hair back from his forehead. “Or at least, what remains of the night. We are leaving fairly early tomorrow.”

“I hate early mornings, Yamato,” Hibiki grouses, shifting so he can tug the clean clothes on and then dive back into the sheets. They feel warm and he’s exhausted down to the _bone_. “Come lay down with me.” He peeks over the edge of the comforter, eyes heavy but still so filled with _life_.

“I was planning on it,” Yamato says with a snort, shifting so he can lay beside him. “You exhausted me.”

“Hmmmm, whose fault is that?” Hibiki answers, a yawn ending his bratty response. 

Yamato pulls him against his chest after that, forehead resting against Hibiki’s. Even in the dim darkness of Yamato’s childhood bedroom, Hibiki can make out the pure adoration and _warmth_ in his eyes. “Sleep now. We will figure out what to do next in the morning.”

“Okay,” Hibiki says with a drowsy wrinkle of his nose. “Hope the… entire mansion didn’t just hear me banging you.”

“I hope they did,” is all Yamato says, clasping a hand teasingly over Hibiki’s mouth so that he shuts up.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your thoughts!!!


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